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JBRAKY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


Self-Raised 


OR 


FROM  THE  DEPTHS 


BY 


Mrs,  E.  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTJff 


^^ 


CHICAGO 

W.  B.  CO  NICE  Y  COMPANY 


B  V  THE  SAME  A  UTHOR 
IN  UNIFORM  STYLE 


THE  HIDDEN  HAND 

THE  CURSE  OF  CLIFTON 

ISHMAEL,  OR  IN  THE 
DEPTHS 

SELF-RAISED,   OR  FROM 
THE  DEPTHS 

THE  LOST  HEIRESS 


CHICAGO 
IV.  B.   CONKEY  COMPANY 


SELF-RAISED 

OR, 

FROM  THE  DEPTHS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

RECOVERY. 


Something  I  know.    Oft,  shall  it  come  ahovii 

When  every  heart  is  full  of  hope  for  man. 
The  horizon  straight  is  darkened,  and  a  doubt 

Clouds  all.    The  work  the  youth  so  well  began 
Wastes  down,  and  by  some  deed  of  shame  is  finished. 

Ah,  yet  we  will  not  be  dismayed: 
What  seemed  the  triumph  of  the  Fiend  at  length 

Might  be  the  effort  of  some  dying  devil. 
Permitted  to  put  forth  his  fullest  strength 

To  loose  it  all  forever! — Owen  Meredith. 

Awful  as  the  anguish  of  his  parting  with  Claudia  had 
been,  it  was  not  likely  that  Ishmael,  with  his  strength  of 
intellect  and  will,  would  long  succumb  to  despair.  It  was 
not  in  Claudia's  power  to  make  his  life  quite  desolate;  how 
could  it  be  so  while  Bee  cared  for  him? 

Bee  had  loved  Ishmael  as  leng  as  Ishmael  had  loved  Cl^U" 
dia.  She  had  loved  him  when  he  was  a  boy  at  school;  when 
he  was  a  young  country  teacher;  when  he  was  a  law-student; 
and  she  loved  him  now  that  he  was  a  successful  barrister. 
This  love,  founded  in  esteem  and  honor,  had  constantly 
deepened  and  strengthened.  In  loving  Ishmael,  she  found 
mental  and  spiritual  development ;  and  in  being  near  him  and 
doing  him  good  she  found  comfort  and  happiness.  And  being 
perfectly  satisfied  with  the  present.  Bee  never  gave  a  thought 
to  the  future.  That  she  tacitly  left,  where  it  belongs,  to 
God.   »  « 

Or  if  at  times,  on  perceiving  Ishmael's  utter  obliviousnesa 
d  her  own  kindly  presence,  and  his  perfect  devotioa  to  ih» 


6  Recovery. 

thankless  Claudia,  Eee  felt  a  pang,  she  went  and  busied  her- 
self with  domestic  duties,  or  played  with  the  children  in 
the  nursery,  or,  what  was  better  still,  if  it  happened  to  be 
little  Lu's  "sleepy  time,"  she  would  take  her  baby-sister  up 
to  her  own  room,  sit  down  and  fold  her  to  her  breast  and 
rock  and  sing  her  to  sleep.  And  certainly  the  clasp  of  those 
baby-arms  about  her  neck,  and  the  nestling  of  that  baby- 
form  to  her  bosom,  drew  out  all  the  heart-ache,  and  soothed 
all  the  agitation. 

Except  these  little  occasional  pangs  Bee  had  always  been 
blest  in  loving.  Her  love,  all  unrequited  as  it  seemed,  was 
still  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world  to  her;  and  it  seemed 
thus,  because  in  fact  it  was  so  well  approved  by  her  mind 
and  so  entirely  unselfish.  It  seemed  to  be  her  life,  or  her 
soul,  or  one  with  both;  Bee  was  not  metaphysical  enough 
to  decide  which. 

She  would  not  struggle  with  this  love,  or  try  to  conquer  it, 
any  more  than  she  would  have  striven  against  and  tried  to 
destroy  her  mental  and  spiritual  life.  On  the  contrary,  she 
cherishec  't  as  she  did  her  religion,  of  which  it  was  a  part; 
she  cherished  it  as  she  did  her  love  of  God,  with  which  it 
was  united. 

And  loving  Ishmael  in  this  way,  if  she  should  fail  to  marry 
him,  Bee  resolved  never  to  marry  another;  but  to  live  and 
die  a  maiden,  still  cherishing,  still  hiding,  this  mo^it  pre- 
cious love  in  her  heart  as  a  miser  hides  his  gold.  Whether 
benign  Nature  would  have  permitted  •  the  motherly  little 
maiden  who  had  carried  out  this  resolution  I  do  not  know — ■ 
or  what  Bee  would  have  done  in  the  event  of  Ishmael's  mar- 
rying another,  she  did  not  know. 

When  Claudia  went  away.  Bee,  in  the  midst  of  her  regret 
.at  parting  with  her  cousin,  felt  a  certain  sense  of  relief; 
but  when  she  saw  the  effect  of  that  departure  upon  Tslunael, 
she  became  alarmed  for  him;  and  after  the  terrible  exper- 
iences of  that  day  and  night.  Bee's  one  single  thought  in  life 
was — Ishmael's  good. 

On  the  morning  succeeding  that  dreadful  day  and  night, 
Ishmael  awoke  early,  in  full  possession  of  his  faculties.  He 
remembered  all  the  incidents  of  that  trying  day  and  night; 
reflected  upon  their  effects;  and  prayed  to  God  to  deliver 
him  from  the  burden  and  guilt  of  inordinate  and  sinful  af- 
fections. 

Then  he  arose,  made  his  toilet,  read  a  portion  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, offered  up  his  morning  prayers,  and  went  below  stairs. 
•  In  the  breakfast  parlor  he  found  Bee,  the  busy  little  house- 
keeper, fluttering  softly  around  the  breakfast-table,  and  add- 
ing a  few  finishing  touches  to  its  simple  elegance.  * 

Very  fair,  fresh,  and  blooming  looked  Bee  in_  her  pale 
golden  ringlets,  and  her  pretty  morning  dress  of  white  muslia 


Recovery.  7 

with  blue  ribbons.  There  was  no  one  else  in  tilt*  rOum;  buti 
Bee  advanced  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

He  took  her  hand,  and  retaining  it  in  his  own  for  a  mo-^ 
ment,  said: 

"Oh,  Bee !  yesterday !  last  night !" 

"Upbraid  not  the  past;  it  comes  not  back  again,  Ish- 
mael!  Bury  it;  forget  it;  and  press  onward!"  replied  Bee, 
sweetly  and  solemnly. 

He  raised  her  hand  with  the  impulse  to  carry  it  to  his  lips ; 
but  refraining,  bowed  his  forehead  over  it  instead,  and  then 
gently  released  it.  For  Ishraael's  affection  for  Bee  was  rev- 
erential. To  him  she  appeared  saintly.  Madonna-like,  almost 
angelic. 

"Let  me  make  breakfast  for  you  at  once,  Ishmael.  It  is 
not  of  the  least  use  to  wait  for  the  others.  Mamma,  I  know, 
is  not  awake  yet,  and  none  of  the  gentlemen  have  rung  for 
their  hot  water." 

"And  you.  Bee;  will  you  also  breakfast  now?" 

"Certainly." 

And  she  rang  and  gave  her  orders.  And  the  coffee,  muf- 
fins, fried  fresh  perch  and  broiled  spring  chickens  speedily 
made  their  appearance. 

So  it  was  a  tete-a-tete  meal,  but  Bee  made  it  very  pleas- 
ant. After  breakfast,  Ishmael  left  Bee  to  her  domestic  du- 
ties, and  went  up  into  the  office  to  look  after  the  letters  and 
papers  that  had  been  left  for  him  by  the  penny  postman  that 
morning. 

He  glanced  over  the  newspapers ;  read  the  letters ;  selected 
those  he  would  need  during  the  day;  put  the  others  care- 
fully away;  tied  up  his  documents;  took  up  his  bat  and 
gloves,  and  set  out  for  his  daily  business  at  the  City  Hall. 

In  the  ante-chamber  of  the  Orphans'  Court  Room  he  met 
old  Wiseman,  who  clapped  him  hastily  on  the  shoulder,  ex- 
claiming : 

"How  are  you  this  morning,  old  fellow?     All  right,  eh?'* 

"Thank  you,  I  am  quite  well  again,"  replied  Ishmael. 

"Ha,  ha !  nothing  like  good  brandy  to  get  one  up  out  of  a 
fit  of  exhaustion." 

"Ah !"  exclaimed  Ishmael,  with  a  shudder. 

"Well,  and  have  you  thought  over  what  we  were  talking 
of  yesterday?" 

"It  was "  Ishmael  began,  and  then  hesitated. 

"It  was  about  your  going  into  partnership  with  me." 

"Oh,  yes !  so  it  was !  but  I  have  not  had  time  to  think  of  it 
yet." 

"WslL  thiak  over  it  te-day,  will  you)  and  then,  after  the 
court  has  adjourned,  come  to  my  chambers  and  talk  the  mat- 
ter ovej  with  yae.    Will  you  ?" 

"Thank  jpn,  yes,  c©rtainlj;,"^ 


S  Recovery. 

"Ah,  well  I  I  will  not  keep  you  any  longer,  for  I  see  that 
you  are  in  a  hurry.    Good-morning." 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Wiseman."    And  each  went  his  way. 

Ishmael  had  not  yet  seriously  thought  of  Lawyer  "Wise- 
man's proposal.  This  forenoon,  however,  in  the  intervals  of 
his  professional  business,  he  reflected  on  it. 

The  proposed  partnership  was  unquestionably  a  highly  ad- 
vantageous one,  in  a  worldly  point  of  view.  Lawyer  Wiseman 
was  undoubtedly  the  best  lawyer  and  commanded  the  largest 
practice  at  the  Washington  bar,  with  one  single  exception — 
that  of  the  brilliant  young  barrister  whom  he  proposed  to 
associate  with  himself.  Together  they  would  be  invincible, 
carrying  everything  before  them;  and  Ishmael's  fortune 
would  be  rapidly  made. 

So  far  the  offer  was  a  very  tempting  one;  yet  the  more 
Ishmael  reflected  on  it,  the  more  determined  he  became  to 
refuse  it;  because,  in  fact,  his  conscience  would  not  permit 
him  to  enter  into  partnership  with  Lawyer  Wiseman,  for  the 
following  reasons :  Lawyer  Wiseman,  a  man  of  vmimpeach- 
able  integrity  in  his  private  life,  declined  to  carry  moral  re- 
sponsibility into  his  professional  business.  He  was  indiscrim- 
inate in  his  acceptance  of  briefs.  It  mattered  not  whether 
the  case  presented  to  him  was  a  case  of  injustice,  cruelty  or 
oppression,  so  that  it  was  a  case  for  law,  with  a  wealthy  client 
to  back  it,  the  only  question  with  Lawyer  Wiseman  being 
the  amount  of  the  retaining  fee.  If  his  client  liberally 
anointed  Lawyer  Wiseman's  eyes  with  golden  ointment. 
Lawyer  Wiseman  would  undertake  to  see  and  make  the  judge 
and  jury  see  anything  and  everything  that  his  client  wished ! 
With  such  a  man  as  this,  therefore,  whatever  the  professional 
advantages  of  the  association  might  be,  Ishmael  could  not 
enter  into  partnership. 

And  so  when  the  court  had  adjourned,  Ishmael  walked  over 
to  the  chambers  of  ]\Ir.  Wiseman  on  Louisiana  avenue,  and 
in  an  interview  with  the  old  lawyer,  courteously  declined 
his  offer. 

This  considerably  astonished  Mr.  Wiseman,  who  pressed 
Ishmael  for  the  reasons  of  his  strange  refusal. 

And  Ishmael,  being  urged,  at  length  candidly  confessed 
them. 

Instead  of  being  angry,  as  might  have  been  expected,  the 
old  lawyer  was  simply  amused.  He  laughed  at  his  young 
friend's  scruples,  and  assured  him  that  experience  would 
cure  them.  And  the  interview  having  been  brought  to  a 
close,  they  shook  hands  and  parted  amicably. 

Ishmael  hurried  home  to  dine  and  spend  the  evening  with 
the  family.  m 

•  On  the  Moiiday  following,  at  the  order  of  Judgie  Merlin, 
preparations  were  commenced    for  shutting  up  the  town- 


Recovery.  9 

house,  and  leaving  Washington  for  Tanglewood;  for  the  judge 
swore  that,  let  any  one  whatever  get  married,  or  christened, 
stay  in  the  city  another  week  he  could  not,  without  decom- 
posing, for  that  his  soul  had  already  left  his  body  and  pre- 
ceded him  to  Tanglewood,  whither  he  must  immediately 
follow  it. 

Oh,  but  Bee  had  plenty  of  work  to  look  after  that  week 
— the  packing  up  of  all  the  children's  clothes,  and  of  all  the 
household  effect-s — such  as  silver  plate,  cut-glass,  fine  china, 
cutlery,  et  cetera,  that  were  to  be  sent  forward  to  Tangle- 
wood. 

She  would  have  had  to  overlook  the  packing  of  the  books 
also,  but  that  Ishmael  insisted  on  relieving  her  of  that  task, 
by  doing  it  all  with  his  own  hands,  as  indeed  he  preferred 
to  do  it,  for  his  love  of  books  was  almost — tender.  It  was 
curious  to  see  liim  carefully  straighten  the  leaves  and  brush 
the  cover  and  edges  of  an  old  book  before  he  laid  it;  away; 
or  stop  and  mend  a  torn  book,  as  conscientiously  as  he  would 
have  doctored  a  hurt  child.  They  were  his  friends,  and  he 
was  fond  of  them. 

Ishmael  continued  steadily  in  the  performance  of  all  his 
duties,  yet  that  he  was  still  suffering  very  much  might  be 
observed,  in  the  abiding  paleness  and  wasting  thinness  of 
his  face,  and  in  a  certain  lang^uor  and  weariness  in  all  his 
movements. 

Bee,  in  the  midst  of  her  multifarious  cares,  did  not  for- 
get his  interests;  she  took  pains  to  have  his  favorite  dishes 
appear  on  the  table  in  order  to  tempt  him  to  take  food. 
But,  observing  that  he  still  ate  little  or  nothing  while  he 
daily  lost  flesh,  she  took  an  opportunity  of  saying  to  him  in 
the  library: 

"Ishmael,  you  know  I  am  a  right  good  little  doctress;  I 
have  had  so  much  experience  in  nursing  father  and  mother 
and  the  children;  so  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about  when 
1  tell  you  that  you  need  a  tonic." 

"Oh,  Bee !  if  you  did  but  really  know,  little  sister !" 

"I  do  know,  Ishmael,  I  know  it  all!"  she  said,  gently. 

"  'Out  of  the  heart  are  the  issues  of  life !'  Bee,  mine  has 
received  a  paralyzing  blow." 

"I  know  it,  dear  Ishmael;  I  know  it;  but  let  your  great 
mind  sustain  that  stricken  heart  until  it  recovers  the  blow. 
And  in  the  meantime  try  to  get  up  your  strength.  You  must 
have  more  food  and  more  rest,  and  in  order  to  secure  them 
you  must  take  a  tonic  in  the  morning  to  give  you  an  appetite, 
and  a  sedative  at  night  to  give  you  sleep.  That  was  the  way 
we  saved  mamma  after  little  Haiy  died  or,  indeed,  I  think 
she  would  have  followed  her." 
*»  Ishmael  smiled  a  very  wan  smile  as  he  answered : 

^'Indeed,  I  am  ashamed  of  this  utter  weakness.  Be©."- 


lO  Herman  and  Ishmael. 

"Why  should  you  be?  Has  Providence  given  you  any  im- 
mHnity  from  the  common  lot?  We  must  take  our  human 
nature  as  it  is  given  to  us  and  do  the  best  we  can  with  it, 
I  think." 

"What  a  wise  little  woman  you  are.  Ah,  Bee,  you 
seem  to  comprise  in  yourself  all  that  I  have  missed  of  family 
affection,  and  to  compensate  me  for  the  unl^nown  love  of 
mother,  sister,  friend !" 

"Do  I,  Ishmael  ?  Oh,  I  wish  that  I  really  did !"  said  Bee, 
impulsively;  and  then  she  blushed  deeply  at  suddenly  ap- 
prehending the  construction  that  might  be  put  upon  her 
words. 

But  Ishmael  answered  those  words  in  the  spirit  in  which 
they  were  uttered: 

"Believe  me,  dearest  Bee,  you  do.  If  I  never  feel  the 
want  of  home  affections  it  is  because  I  have  them  all  in  you. 
My  heart  finds  rest  in  you.  Bee.  But  oh,  little  sister,  what 
can  I  ever  render  to  you  for  all  the  good  you  have  done 
me  from  my  childhood  up?" 

"Kender  yourself  good  and  wise  and  great,  Ishmael.  and 
I  shall  be  sufficiently  happy  in  watching  your  upward  prog- 
ress." 


CHAPTEE  II. 

HERMAN  AND  ISHMAEL. 

Bee  soon  afterward  withdrew,  and  her  exit  was  almost 
immediately  followed  by  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Brudenell.  He 
also  had  noticed  Ishmael's  condition,  and  attributed  it  to 
overwork,  and  to  the  want  of  rest,  with  change  of  air.  He 
was  preparing  to  leave  Washington  for  Brudenell  Hall.  He 
was  going  a  few  days  in  advance  of  Judge  Merling  and  the 
Middletons,  and  he  intended  to  invite  Ishmael  to  accompany 
him,  or  to  come  after  him,  and  make  a  visit  to  Brudenell. 
He  earnestly  desired  to  have  Ishmael  there  to  himself  for 
a  week  or  two.  It  was  with  this  desire  that  he  now  entered 
the  library. 

Ishmael  arose  from  his  packing,  and,  smiling  a  welcome, 
set  a  chair  for  his  visitor. 

"You  are  not  looking  well,  Mr.  Worth,"  said  Herman  Bru- 
denell, as  he  took  the  offered  seat. 

"I  am  not  well  just  at  present,  but  I  shall  be  so  in  a  day 
or  two,"  returned  Islimael. 

"Not  if  you  continue  the  course  you  are  pursuinjj  now, 
my  young  friend.  You  require  rest  and  change  of  air.  I 
shall  leave  Washington  for  Brudenell  Hall  on  Thursday 
morning.     It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  if  you  would 


Herman  and  Ishmael.  il 

accompany  me  thither,  and  remain  my  guest  for  a  few  weeks, 
to  recruit  your  health.  The  place  is  noted  for  its  salubrity; 
and  though  the  house  has  been  dismantled  and  has  remained 
vacant  for  some  time,  yet  I  hope  we  will  find  it  fitted  up 
comfortably  again;  for  I  have  written  down  to  an  uphols- 
terer of  Baymouth  to  send  in  some  furniture,  and  I  have 
also  written  to  a  certain  genius  of  all  trades,  called  the  *pro- 
fessor,'  to  go  over  and  see  it  all  arranged,  and  do  what  else 
is  needed  to  be  done  for  ovir  reception." 

Ishmael  smiled  when  he  heard  the  name  of  the  professor; 
but  before  he  could  make  any  comment,  Mr.  Brudenell  in- 
quired : 

"What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Worth?  Will  you  accompany  me 
thither,  or  will  you  come  after  me?" 

"I  thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Brudenell.  I  should  like 
to  visit  Brudenell  Hall;  but " 

"Then  you  will  come?  I  am  very  glad!  I  shall  be  alene 
there  with  my  servants,  you  know,  and  your  society  will  be 
a  godsend  to  me.  Had  you  not  better  go  down  at  once  when 
I  do?  I  go  by  land,  in  a  hired  carriage.  The  carriage  is 
very  comfortable;  and  we  can  make  the  journey  in  two  days, 
and  lay  by  during  the  heat  of  both  days.  I  think  the  trip 
will  be  pleasant.  We  can  reach  Brudenell  Hall  on  Friday 
night,  and  have  a  good  rest  before  Sunday,  when  we  can  go 
to  the  old  country  church,  where  you  will  be  likely  to  meet 
the  faces  of  some  of  your  old  friends.  I  think  we  shall  be 
very  comfortable  keeping  bachelors'  quarters  together  at 
Brudenell  Hall,  this  summer,  Mr.  Worth,"  said  Herman 
Brudenell,  who  longed  more  than  tongue  could  tell  to  have 
Nora's  son  at  home  with  him,  though  it  might  be  only  for  a 
short  time. 

"I  feel  your  kindness  very  much,  indeed,  Mr.  Brudenell,; 
and  I  should  be  very,  very  happy  to  accept  your  hospitable 
invitation;  but — I  was  about  to  say,  it  really  is  quite  impos- 
sible in  the  existing  state  of  my  business  for  me  to  go  any- 
where at  present,"  said  Ishmael,  courteously. 
-  "Indeed?  I  am  very  sorry  for  that.  But  the  reasons  you 
give  are  unanswerable,  I  know.  I  am  seriously  disappointed. 
Yet  I  trust,  though  you  may  not  be  able  to  come  just  at  pres- 
ent, you  will  follow  me  down  there  after  a  little  while — say 
in  the  course  of  a  few  days  or  weeks — for  I  shall  remain  at 
the  hall  all  summer  and  shall  be  always  delighted  to  receive 
you.    Will  you  promise  to  come?" 

"Indeed,  I  fear  I  cannot  promise  that,  either,  for  I  have 
a  very  great  pressure  of  business ;  but  if  I  can  possibly  man- 
age t©  go,  without  infringing  upon  my  duties,  I  shall  be 
grateful  for  t*he  privilege  and  very  happy  to  avail  myself 
of  it;  for — do  you  know,  sir? — I  was  born  in  that  neighbor- 
hood and  passed  my  childhood  and  youth  there.      I  love  the 


12  Hennan  and  Ishmael. 

old  place,  and  almost  long  to  see  the  old  hut  where  I  lived, 
and  the  hall  where  I  went  to  school,  and  the  wooded  valley 
that  lies  between  them,  where  I  gathered  wild-flowers  and 
fruits  in  summer  and  nuts  in  winter,  and — my  mother's 
grave,"  said  the  unconscious  son,  speaking  confidentially,  and 
looking  straight  into  his  father's  eyes. 

*'Ishmael,"  said  Herman  Brudenell,  in  a  faltering  voice, 
and  forgetting  to  be  formal,  "you  must  come  to  me :  that 
grave  should  draw  you  if  nothing  else ;  it  is  a  pious  pilgrim- 
age when  a  son  goes  to  visit  his  mother's  grave." 

There  was  something  in  this  new  friend's  words,  look  and 
manner  that  always  drew  out  the  young  man's  confidence, 
and  he  said,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion: 

"She  died  young,  sir;  and  oh!  so  sorrowfully!  She  was 
only  nineteen,  two  years  younger  than  I  am  now;  and  her 
son  was  motherless  the  hour  he  was  born." 

Violent  emotion  shook  the  frame  of  Herman  Brudenell. 
He  had  not  entered  the  room  with  any  intention  of  making 
a  disclosure  to  Ishmael;  but  he  felt  now  that — come  life, 
come  death,  come  whatever  might  of  it — he  must  claim  Nora's 
son. 

"Ishmael,"  he  began,  in  a  voice  shaken  with  agitation,  "I 
knew  your  mother." 

"You,  sir!"  exclaimed  the  young  man  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  I  knew  her  and  her  sister,  naturally,  for  they  were 
tenants  of  mine." 

"I  knew  that  they  lived  on  the  outskirts  of  the  Brudenell 
estate,  but  I  did  not  know  you  were  personally  acquainted 
with  them,  sir;  for  I  thought  that  you  resided  mostly  in 
Europe." 

"Not  all  the  time;  I  was  at  Brudenell  Hall  when — you 
were  born  and  your  mother  went  to  heaven,  Ishmael." 

Some  of  the  elder  man's  agitation  commtinicated  itself 
to  the  younger,  who  half  arose  from  his  seat  and  looked  in- 
tently at  the  speaker. 

"I  knew  your  mother  in  those  days,  Ishmael.  She  was  not 
only  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  of  her  day,  but  one 
of  the  purest,  noblest  and  best." 

Herman  Brudenell  hesitated.  And  Ishmael,  who  had 
dropped  again  into  his  seat,  bent  eagerly  forward,  holding 
his  breath  while  he  listened. 

Herman  continued. 

"You  resemble  her  in  person  and  in  character,  Ishmael. 
All  that  is  best  and  noblest  and  most  attractive  in  you,  Ish- 
mael, is  derived,  under  Divine  Providence,  from  your  mo- 
ther."    • 

"I  know  it!    Oh,  I  know  it!" 

"And,  Ishmael,  I  loved  your  mother!" 

*'0h,  heaven!''  breathed  the  young  man,  in  sickening  dead- 


Herman  and  Ishmael.  13 

ly  apprehension;  for  well  he  remembered  that  this  Mr.  Her- 
man Brudenell  was  the  husband  of  the  Countess  of  Hurst- 
monceux  at  the  very  time  of  which  he  now  spoke. 

"Ishmael!  Ishrhael!  do  not  look  so  cruelly  distressed!  I 
loved  her,  she  loved  me  in  return,  she  crowned  my  days  with 
joy,  and-; — " 

A  gasping  sound  of  suddenly  suspended  breath  from  Ish- 
mael. 

"I  made  her  my  wife,"  continued  Herman  Brudenell,  in  a 
grave  and  earnest  voice. 

"It  was  you,  then !"  cried  Ishmael,  shaking  with  agitation. 
'''It  was  I!" 

Silence  like  a  pall  fell  between  them. 
"Oh,  Ishmael !  my  son !  my  son !  speak  to  me !  give  me  your 
hand!"  groaned  Herman  Brudenell. 

"She  was  your  wife !  Yet  she  died  of  want,  exposure  and 
grief !"  said  Nora's  son,  standing  pale  and  stony  before  him. 
"And  I — live  with  a  breaking  heart;  a  harder  fate,  Ish- 
mael. Since  her  death,  I  have  been  a  wifeless,  childless, 
homeless  wanderer  over  the  wide  world!  Oh,  Ishmael!  my 
son !  my  son !  give  me  your  hand !" 

"I  am  my  mother's  son.  She  was  your  wife,  you  say; 
yet  she  never  bore  your  name!  She  was  your  wife;  yet  her 
son  and  yours  bears  her  maiden  name !  She  was  your  wife ; 
yet  she  perished  miserably  in  her  early  youth ;  and  undeserved 
reproach  is  suffered  to  rest  upon  her  memory.  Oh,  sir,  if 
indeed  you  were  her  husband  and  my  father,  as  you  claim 
to  be,  explain  these  things  before  I  give  you  my  hand!  for 
when  I  give  my  hand,  honor  and  respect  must  go  with  it!" 
said  Ishmael,  in  a  grave,  sweet,  earnest  tone. 

"Is  it  possible  that  Hannah  has  never  told  you  ?  I  thought 
she  would  have  told  you  everything,  except  the  name  of  your 
father." 

"She  told  me  everything  that  she  could  tell  without  violat- 
ing the  oath  of  secrecy  by  which  she  was  bound;  but  what 
ehe  told  me  was  not  satisfactory." 

"Sit  down,  then,  Ishmael,  sit  down;  and  though  to  recall 
this  woeful  history  will  be  to  tear  open  old  wounds  afresh, 
I  will  do  so;  and  when  you  have  heard  it,  you  will  know  how 
blameless  we  both — your  mother  and  myself — really  were,  and 
how  deep  has  been  the  tragedy  of  my  life  as  well  as  hers — the 
difference  between  us  being  that  hers  is  a  dead  trouble,  from 
which  she  rests,  eternally,  while  mine  is  a  living  and  a  life 
long  sorrow !" 

Ishmael  dropped  again  into  his  chair  and  gave  undivided 
attention  to  the  spealcer. 

And  Mr.  Brudenell,  after  a  shart  pause,  commenced  and 
gave  a  narrative  of  his  own  eventful  life,  beginning  with  his 
college  days,  and  detailing  all  the  incidents  of  his  youthful 


14  Father  and  Son. 

career  until  it  culminated  in  the  dreadful  household  wreck 
that  had  killed  Nora,  exiled  his  family  and  blasted  his  own 
happiness  forever. 

Ishmael  listened  with  the  deepest  sympathy. 

It  was  indeed  the  tearing  open  of  old  wounds  in  Herman 
Brudenell's  breast;  and  it  was  the  inflicting  of  new  ones  in 
Jshmael's  heart.  It  was  an  hour  of  unspeakable  distress  to 
both.  Herman  did  not  spare  himself  in  the  relation;  yet  in 
the  end  Ishmael  exculpated  his  father  from  all  blame.  We 
know  indeed  that  in  his  relations  with  Nora  he  was  blame- 
less, unless. his  fatal  haste  could  be  called  a  fault.  And  as 
for  his  long  neglect  of  Ishmael,  which  really  was  a  great 
sin,  and  the  greatest  he  had  ever  committed,  Ishmael  never 
gave  a  thought  to  that,  it  was  only  a  sin  against  himself,  and 
Ishmael  was  not  selfish  enough  to  feel  or  resent  it. 

Herman  Brudenell  ended  his  story  very  much  as  he  had 
commenced  it: 

"And  since  that  day  of  doom,  Ishmael,  I  have  been  a 
lonely,  homeless,  miserable  wanderer  over  the  wide  world ! 
The  fabled  Wandering  Jew  not  more  wretched  than  I !"  And 
the  bowed  head,  blanched  complexion  and  quivering  features 
bore  testimony  to  his  words. 


CHAPTEK  III. 

FATHER    AND    SON. 

Ishmael  had  been  violently  shaken.  It  was  with  much 
effort  that  he  controlled  his  own  emotions  in  order  to  admin- 
ister consolation  to  one  who  was  suffering  even  more  than 
he  himself  was,  because  that  suffering  was  blended  with  a 
morbid  remorse. 

"Father,"  he  said,  reaching  forth  his  hand  to  the  stricken 
man;  but  his  voice  failed  him. 

love  chasing  away  the  sorrow  from  his  face,  as  he  said : 

"Father  ?  Ah,  what  a  dear  name !  You  call  me  thus,  Ish- 
mael?   Me,  who  worked  your  mother  so  much  woe?" 

"Father,  it  was  your  great  misfortune,  not  your  fault;  she 
said  it  on  her  death-bed,  and  the  words  of  the  dying  are 
sacred,"  said  Ishmael,  earnestly,  and  caressing  the  pale,  thin 
hand  that  he  held. 

"Oh,  Nora!  Oh,  Nora!"  exclaimed  Herman,  as  all  his 
bosom's  wounds  bled  afreah. 

"Father  do  not  grieve  so  bitterly;  aod  aftsr  all  theae  years 
so  morbidly!  God  has  wiped  away  all  tears  frym  her  eyes. 
She  has  been  a  s«.int  in  glory  these  many  years!" 


Fatter  and  Son.  15 

"You  try  to  comfort  rae,  Ishmael!  You,  Nora's  son?'' 
exclaimed  Herman,  with  increased  emotion. 

"Who  else  of  all  the  world  should  comfort  you  but  Nora's 
son  ?" 

"You  love  me,  then,  a  little,  Ishmael  ?" 

"She  loved  you,  my  father,  and  why  should  not  I?'' 

"Ah,  that  means  that  you  will  love  me  in  time;  for  love 
is  not  born  in  an  instant,  my  son." 

"My  heart  reaches  out  to  you,  my  father:  I  love  you 
even  now,  and  sympathize  with  you  deeply;  and  I  feel  that 
I  shall  love  you  more  and  more,  and  as  I  shall  see  you  often- 
er  and  know  you  better,"  said  the  simply  truthful  son. 

"Ishmael,  this  is  the  happiest  hour  I  have  known  since 
Nora's  death,  and  Nora's  son  has  given  it  to  me." 

"None  have  a  better  right  to  serve  you." 

"My  son,  I  am  a  prematurely  old  and  broken  man,  ruined 
and  impoverished,  but  Brudenell  Hall  is  still  mine,  and 
the  name  of  Brudenell  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  honored 
in  the  old  and  new  world!  If  you  consent,  Ishmael,  I  will 
gladly,  proudly,  and  openly  acknowledge  you  as  my  son.  I 
will  get  an  act  of  the  Legislature  passed  authorizing  you  to 
take  the  name  and  arms  of  Brudenell.  And  I  will  make  you 
the  heir  of  Brudenell  Hall.     What  say  you,  Ishmael  ?" 

"Father,"  said  the  young  man,  promptly  but  respectfully, 
"no!  In  all  things  I  will  be  to  you  a  true  and  loving  son; 
but  I  cannot,  cannot  consent  to  your  proposal;  because  to 
do  so  would  be  to  cast  bitter,  heavy,  unmerited  reproach  upon 
my  sweet  mother's  memory!  For,  listen,  sir;  you  are  known 
to  have  been  the  husband  of  the  Countess  Hurstmonceux  for 
more  years  than  I  have  lived  in  this  world;  you  are  known 
to  have  been  so  at  the  very  time  of  my  birth;  you  could  not 
go  about  explaining  the  circumstances  to  every  one  who 
would  become  acquainted  with  the  facts,  and  the  consequences 
would  be  what  I  said !  No,  father,  leave  me  as  I  am ;  for, 
besides  the  reasons  I  have  given,  there  is  yet  another  reason 
why  I  may  not  take  your  name." 

"What  is  that,  Ishmael?"  asked  Brudenell,  in  a  broken 
voice. 

"It  is,  that  in  an  hour  of  passionate  grief,  after  hearing 
my  mother's  woful  story  from  the  lips  of  my  aunt,  I  fell 
upon  that  mother's  grave,  and  vowed  to  make  her  name — the 
only  thing  she  had  to  leave  me,  poor  mother! — illustrious. 
It  was  a  piece  of  boyish  vainglory,  no  doubt,  but  it  was  a 
vow,  and  I  must  try  to  keep  it." 

"You  will  keep  it;  you  will  make  the  name  of  Worth  il- 
lustrious in  the  annals  of  the  country,  Ishmael,"  said  Mr. 
Brudenell. 

There  was  a  pause  for  a  little  while,  at  the  end  of  which 
the  latter  said: 


1 6  Fatter  and  Son. 

"There  is  another  way  in  which  I  may  be  ablo  to  accom- 
plish my  purpose,  Ishmael.  Without  proclaiming  you  as  ray 
son,  and  risking  the  reproach  you  dread  for  your  dear  mo- 
ther's memory,  I  might  adopt  you  as  my  son,  and  appoint 
you  my  heir.  Will  you  make  me  happy  by  consenting  to 
that  measure,  Ishmael  ?"  inquired  the  father,  in  a  persuasive 
tone. 

"Dear  sir,  I  cannot.  Oh,  do  not  think  that  I  am  insensible 
to  all  your  kindness,  for  indeed  I  am  not!  I  thank  you;  I 
love  3'ou;  and  I  deeply  sympathize  with  you;  but "' 

"But  what,  my  son  ?  What  is  the  reason  you  cannot  agree 
to  this  last  proposal  ?"  asked  Mr.  Brudenell,  in  a  voice  quiver- 
ing with  emotion. 

"A  strong  spirit  of  independence,  the  growth  of  years  of 
lonely  struggle  with  the  world,  possesses  and  inspires  me. 
I  could  not  for  an  hour  endure  patronage  or  dependence, 
come  they  from  where  or  how  they  might.  It  is  the  law  of 
my  life,"  said  Ishmael,  firmly,  but  affectionately. 

"It  is  a  noble  law,  and  yours  has  been  a  noble  life,  my 
son.  But — is  there  nothing,  nothing  I  can  do  for  you  to 
prove  my  affection,  and  to  ease  my  heart,  Ishmael?" 

"Yes!"  said  the  young  man,  after  a  pause.  "When  you 
return  to  England,  you  will  see — Lady  Vincent !"  The  name 
was  uttered  with  a  gasp.  "Tell  her  what  you  have  told  me — 
the  history  of  your  acquaintance  with  my  mother ;  your  mu- 
tual love ;  your  private  marriage,  and  the  unforeseen  misfor- 
tune that  wrecked  your  happiness!  Tell  her  how  pure  and 
noble  and  lovely  my  young  mother  was!  that  her  ladyship 

may  know  once  for  all  Nora  Worth  was  not "    Ishmael 

covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  caught  his  breath,  and  con- 
tinued— "not  as  she  said,  'the  shame  of  her  own  sex  and  the 
scorn  of  ours;'  that  her  son  is  not  'the  child  of  sin,'  nor  'his 
heritage  dishonor !' "  And  Ishmael  dropped  his  stately  head 
upon  his  desk,  and  sobbed  aloud ;  sobbed  until  all  his  a  thletic 
form  shook  with  the  storm  of  his  great  agony. 

Herman  Brudenell  gazed  at  him — appalled.  Then,  rising, 
he  laid  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder,  saying: 

"Ishmael!  Ishmael!  don't  do  so!  Calm  yourself,  my  son; 
oh,  my  dear  son,  calm  yourself!" 

He  might  as  well  liave  spoken  to  a  tempest.  Sobs  still 
shook  Ishmael's  whole  frame. 

'^Ch,  heaven  I  oh,  heaven !  Would  to  the  Lord  I  had  never 
been  born!"  cried  Herman  Brudeioell,  in  a  voice  of  such  utter 
wt>'e  that  Ishmael  raised  his  head  and  striiggled  hard  to 
subdue  the  storm  of  passion  that  was  raging  in  his  bosom. 
"Or  would  that  I  had  died  the  day  I  met  Nora,  and  bofore  I 
had  entailed  all  this  anguish  on  you!"  continued  Herman 
Brudener,  amid  groans  and  sighs. 
-    'Don't  say  so,  my  father !  don't  say  so  I    You  wer©  not  ia 


Father  and  Son.  17 

fatdt.  You  were  as  blameless  as  she  herself  was;  and  you 
eould  n®t  have  been  more  so,"  said  Ishmael,  wiping  his  fe- 
vered brow,  and  looking  up. 

"My  generous  son!  But  did  Claudia — did  Lady  Vincent 
use  the  cruel  words  you  have  quoted,  against  your  mother 
and  yourself?" 

"She  did,  my  father.  Oh,  but  I  have  suffered!"  exclaimed 
Ishmael,  with  shaking  voice  and  quivering  features, 

"I  know  you  have ;  I  know  it,  Ishmael ;  but  you  havo  grand- 
ly, gloriously  conquered  suffering,"  said  Mr.  Brudenell,  with 
enthusiasm. 

"Not  quite  conquered  it  yet;  but  I  shall  endeavor  to  do 
so,"  replied  the  young  man,  who  had  now  quite  regained  hia 
self-possession. 

And  another  pause  fell  between  them. 

Ishmael  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand  and  reflected  deeply 
for  a  few  moments.    Then,  raising  his  head,  he  said : 

"My  father,  for  her  sake,  our  relationship  must  remain 
a  secret  from  all  the  world,  with  the  few  exceptions  of  those 
intimate  friends  to  whom  you  can  explain  the  circumstances, 
and  even  to  them  it  must  be  imparted  in  confidence.  You 
will  tell  Lady  Vincent,  that  her  ladyship  may  know  _how 
false  were  the  calumnies  she  permitted  herself  to  repeat ;  and 
Judge  Merlin  and  Mr.  Middleton,  whose  kindness_  has  en- 
titled them  to  the  confidence,  for  their  own  satisfaction." 

"And  no  one  else,  Ishmael?" 

"No  one  else  in  the  world,  my  father.  I  myself  will  tell 
Uncle  Reuben,  And  in  public,  my  father,  we  must  be  dis- 
creet in  our  intercourse  with  each  other.  Forgive  me  if  I 
speak  in  too  dictatorial  a  manner;  I  speak  for  lips  that  are 
dumb  in  death.  I  speak  as  my  dead  mother's  advocate,"  said 
Ishmael,  with  a  strange  blending  of  meekness  and  firmness 
in  his  tone  and  manner. 

"And  her  advocate  shall  be  heard  and  heeded,  hard  as  his 
mandate  seems.  But,  ah !  I  am  an  old  and  broken  man,  Ish- 
mael. I  had  hoped,  in  time,  to  claim  you  as  my  son,  and 
solace  my  age  in  your  bright  youth.  I  am  grievously  dis- 
appointed. Oh  1  would  to  heaven  I  had  taken  charge  of  you 
in  your  infancy,  and  then  yoji  would  not  disclaim  m©  now !" 
sighed  Mr.  Brudenell. 

"I  do  not  disclaim  you,  oh,  my  father.  I  only  deprecate 
the  publicity  that  might  wound  my  mother's  memory.  And 
you  are  not  old  and  broken,  my  father.  How  can  you  be  at 
forty-three  ?  You  are  in  the  sunny  summer  noon  of  your  life. 
If  you  were  a  single  man  I  should  say  'marry  again' ;  but  as 
you  are  already  a  married  man,  tbough  estranged  from  your 
wife,  I  say  to  you,  seek  a  reconciliation  with  that  lady. 
You  are  both  in  the  prime  of  life," 

Brudenell  slowly  and  sorrowfully  shook  his  head. 


l8  Father  and  Son. 

"The  Countess  of  Ilurstmonceux  can  never  more  oe  any- 
thing to  me,"  he  said.  "She  wronged  me,  Ishmael!  She  de- 
ceived me !    Slie  was  false  to  me !" 

"I  cannot  believe  it!"  exclaimed  Ishmael,  earnestly. 

"Why,  what  ground  have  you  for  saying  so?  What  can 
you  know  of  it?" 

"Because  I  do  not  easily  think  evil  of  women.  My  life 
has  been  short  and  my  experience  limited,  I  know;  but  as 
far  as  my  observation  instructs  me,  they  are  very  much  bet- 
ter than  we  are;  they  do  not  readily  yield  to  evil;  their  ten- 
dencies are  all  good,"  said  Ishmael,  fervently. 

"Young  man,  you  know  a  great  deal  of  books,  a  great  deal 
of  law;  but  little  of  men,  and  less  of  women.  A  man  of 
the  world  would  smile  to  hear  you  say  what  you  have  just 
said,  Ishmael." 

"If  I  am  mistaken,  it  is  a  matter  to  weep  over,  not  to  smile 
at!"  said  Ishmael,  gravely,  and  almost  severely. 

"It  is  true." 

"But  to  return  to  your  countess,  my  father.  I  am  not 
mistaken  in  that  lady's  face,  I  know.  I  have  not  seen  it 
since  I  was  eight  j^ears  old ;  but  it  is  before  me  now !  a  sweet, 
sad,  patient  young  face,  full  of  holy  love.  Seek  an  expla- 
nation from  her,  and,  my  word  on  it,  she  will  be  able  to  con- 
fute the  calumnies,  or  clear  up  the  suspicious  circumstances 
or  whatever  it  may  have  been  that  has  shaken  your  confi- 
dence in  her,  and  kept  you  apart  so  long." 

"Ishmael,  it  is  a  subject  that  I  have  never  broached  to 
the  countess,  and  that  I  could  not  endure  to  discuss  with 
her!" 

"What,  my  father?  Would  you  forever  condemn  her  un- 
heard ?    We  do  not  treat  our  worst  criminals  so !" 

"Spai'e  me,  my  son !  for  I  have  spared  her !" 

"If  by  sparing  her  you  mean  that  you  have  left  her  alone, 
you  had  better  not  spared  her;  you  had  better  sought  divorce; 
then  one  of  two  things  would  have  happened — either  she 
would  have  disproved  the  charges  brought  against  her,  or 
she  would  have  been  set  free,  either  alternative  much  better 
than  her  present  condition." 

"I  could  not  drag  my  domestic  troubles  into  a  public  court- 
room, Ishmael." 

"Not  when  justice  required  it,  father  ? — But  you  are  going 
down  into  the  neighborhood  of  Brudenell  Hall !  You  will 
hear  of  her  from  the  people  among  whom  she  lived  so 
many  years,  and  who  cherish  her  memory  as  that  of  an  angel 
of  mercy,  and — you  will  change  your  opinion  of  her." 

Herman  Brudenell  smiled  incredulously,  and  then  said: 

"Apropos  of  my  visit  to  Brudenell  Hall !  I  hope,  Ishmael, 
that  you  will  be  able  to  join  me  there,  in  the  course  of  the 
summer  ?" 


Bee.  19 

"Father,  yes  I  I  promise  you  to  do  so.  I  will  b©  at  pains 
to  put  my  business  in  such  a  train  as  will  enable  me  to  visit 
you  for  a  week  or  two." 


GHAPTEE  IV. 

BEE. 

Three  or  four  similar  invitations  came  to  Ishmael,  and 
not  the  least  appreciated  among  them  was  one  from  Reuben 
Gray. 

The  last  day  of  the  family's  sojourn  in  town  came.  On 
the  morning  of  that  day  Mr.  Brudenell  took  leave  of  his 
friends  and  departed,  exacting  from  Ishmael  a  renewal  of 
his  promise  to  visit  Brudenell  Hall  in  the  course  of  the  sum- 
mer. On  that  last  day  Ishmael  had  completed  the  packing 
of  the  books  and  sent  them  off  to  the  boat  that  was  to  con- 
vey them  to  the  Tanglewood  landing.  And  then  he  had  all 
his  own  personal  effects  conveyed  to  new  lodgings,  which  he 
had  secured  on  Louisiana  avenue.  And  finally  he  sought  an 
interview  with  Eee.  That  was  not  so  easily  obtained,  how- 
ever. Bee  was  very  busy  on  this  last  day.  But  Ishmael,  with 
the  privilege  of  an  inmate,  went  through  the  house,  looking 
for  her,  until  he  found  her  in  the  family  store-room,  busy 
among  the  jars  and  cans,  and  attended  by  her  maids. 

"Come  in,  Ishmael,  for  this  concerns  you,"  she  said,  pleas- 
antly. 

And  Ishmael  entered,  wondering  what  he  could  be  supposed 
to  have  to  do  with  preserved  fruits  and  potted  meats. 

Bee  pointed  to  a  box  that  was  neatly  packed  with  small 
jars,  saying: 

"There,  Ishmael — there  are  some  sealed  fruits  and  vege- 
tables, and  some  spiced  meats  and  fish,  and  a  bachelor's  lamp 
and  kettle  in  that  case  which  Ann  is  closing  down.  They 
are  yours.  Direct  Jim  where  to  find  your  lodgings,  and  he 
will  take  them  there  in  the  wheelbarrow.  And  there  is  a 
keg  of  crackers  and  biscuits  to  go  with  them." 

"Dearest  Bee,  I  am  very  grateful ;  but  why  should  you  give 
me  all  these  things  ?"  inquired  Ishmael,  in  surprise. 

"Because  you  are  going  away  from  home,  and  you  will  want 
them.  Yes,  you  will,  Ishmael,  though  you  don't  think  so 
now.  Often  business  will  detain  you  out  in  the  evening  until 
after  your  boarding-house  supper  is  over.  Then  how  nice 
to  have  the  means  at  hand  to  get  a  comfortable  little  meal 
for  yourself  in  your  own  room  without  much  trouble.  Why, 
Ishmael,  we  always  put  up  such  a  box  as  this  for  Walter  when 
he  leaves  us.  And  do  you  think  that  mamma  or  1  would 
make  any  difference  between  you?" 
9 


20  Bee. 

"You  have  always  been  a  dear — yes,  the  dearest  of  sisters 

to  me!   and  some  day,  Bee "     He  stopped,  and  looked 

around.  The  maids  were  at  some  distance,  but  still  lie  felt 
that  the  family  store-room  was  not  exactly  the  place  to  say 
what  was  in  his  heart  for  her,  so  he  whispered  the  question: 

"How  long  will  you  be  engaged,  dear  Bee?" 

"Until  tea  time.  It  will  take  me  quite  as  long  as  that  to 
get  through  what  I  have  to  do." 

"And  then,  Bee?" 

"Then  I  shall  be  at  leisure  to  pass  this  last  evening  with 
you,  Ishmael,"  answered  Bee,  meeting  his  wish  with  the 
frankness  of  pure  affection. 

"And  will  you  walk  with  me  in  the  garden  after  tea?  It 
will  be  our  last  stroll  together  there,"  he  said,  rather  sadly. 

"Yes ;  I  will  walk  with  you,  Ishmael.  The  garden  is  lovely 
just  at  sunset." 

"Thank  you !  Ah !  how  many  times  a  day  I  have  occasion 
to  speak  those  words.  Dearest,  this  evening  you  shall  know 
how  much  I  thank  you.  Until  then,  farewell."  He  pressed 
her  hand  and  left  her. 

Now  Ishmael  was  far  too  clear-sighted  not  to  have  seen 
that  Bee  had  fixed  her  pure  maidenly  affections  upon  him, 
and  to  see  also  that  Bee's  choice  was  well  approved  by  her 
parents,  who  had  long  loved  him  as  a  son.  While  Ishmael'a 
hands  had  been  busy  with  the  book-packing,  his  thoughts  had 
been  busy  with  Bee  and  with  the  problem  that  her  love  pre- 
sented him.  He  had  loved  Claudia  with  an  all-absorbing 
passion.  But  she  had  left  him  and  married  another,  and  so 
stricken"  a  death-blow  to  his  love.  But  this  love  was  dying 
very  hard,  and  in  its  death-struggles  was  rending  and  tearing 
the  heart  which  was  its  death-bed. 

And  in  the  m.eantime  Bee's  love  was  alive  and  lipalthy, 
and  it  was  fixed  on  him.  He  was  not  insensible,  indifferent, 
ungrateful  for  this  dead  love.  Indeed,  it  was  the  sweetest 
solace  that  he  had  in  this  world.  He  felt  in  the  profoundest 
depths  of  his  heart  all  the  loveliness  of  Bee's  nature.  And 
most  tenderly  he  loved  her — as  a  younger  sister.  What  then 
should  he  do?  Offer  to  Bee  the  poor,  bleeding  heart  that 
Claudia  had  played  with,  broken,  and  cast  aside  as  worthless  ? 
All  that  was  true,  noble  and  manly  in  Ishmael's  nature  re- 
sponded : 

"God  forbid!" 

'But  what,  then,  should  he  do?  Leave  her  to  believe  him 
insensible,  indifferent,  imgrateful?  Strike  such  a  death-blow 
to  her  loving  heart  as  Claudia  had  stricken  to  his  ?  All  that 
was  generous,  affectionate  and  devoted  in  Ishmael's  nature« 
cried  out: 

"No I  forbid  it,  angels  in  heaven!" 


Bee.  21 

Bu?  what,  then,  could  he  do?  The  magnanimity  of  his 
'nature  answered: 

"Open  your  heart  to  her;  that  she  may  know  all  that  is 
in  it;  then  lay  that  heart  at  her  feet,  for  accepting  or  re- 
jecting." 

And  this  he  resolved  to  do.  And  this  resolution  sent  him 
to  beg  this  interview  with  Bee.  Yet  before  going  to  keep 
it  he  determined  to  speak  to  Mr.  Middleton.  He  felt  cer- 
tain that  Mr.  Middleton  would  indorse  his  addresses  to  his 
daughter;  yet  still  his  fine  sense  of  honor  constrained  him 
to  seek  the  consent  of  the  father  before  proposing  to  the 
daughter.  And  with  this  view  immediately  on  leaving  Bee 
he  sought  Mr.   Middleton. 

He  found  that  gentleman  walking  about  in  the  garden, 
enjoying  his  afternoon  cigar.  In  these  afternoon  promenades, 
Mr.  Middleton,  who  was  the  shorter  and  slighter  as  well  as 
the  older  man,  often  did  Ishmael  the  honor  of  leaning  upon 
his  arm.  And  now  Ishmael  went  up  to  his  side  and  with  a 
smile,  silently  offered  the  usual  support. 

"Thank  you,  my  boy !  I  was  just  feeling  the  want  of  your 
friendly  arm.  My  limbs  are  apt  to  grow  tired  of  walking  be- 
fore my  eyes  are  satiated  with  gazing,  or  my  mind  with  re- 
flecting on  the  beauty  of  the  summer  evening,"  said  Mr. 
Middleton,  slipping  his  arm  within  that  of  Ishmael. 

"Sir,"  said  the  young  man,  blushing  slightly,  "a  selfish 
motive  has  brought  me  to  your  side  this  afternoon." 

"A  selfish  motive,  Ishmael !  I  do  not  believe  that  you  ar« 
capable  of  entertaining  one,"  smiled  Mr,  Middleton. 

"Indeed,  yes,  sir ;  you  will  say  so  when  you  hear  of  it." 

"Let  me  hear  it,  then,  Ishmael,  for  the  novelty  of  tha 
thing." 

The  young  man  hesitated  for  a  few  moments  and  then 
said: 

"Mr.  Middleton — Mr.  Brudenell  has,  I  believe,  put  you  in 
possession  of  the  facts  relative  to  my  birth?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  Ishmael;  but  let  me  assure  you  that  I 
did  not  need  to  be  told  them.  Do  you  remember  the  con- 
versation that  we  had  upon  the  subject  years  ago?  It  was 
the  morning  after  the  school  party  when  that  miserable 
craven,  Alfred  Burghe,  disgraced  himself  by  insulting  you. 
You  said,  Ishmael,  *My  mother  was  a  pure  and  honorable 
woman!  Oh,  believe  it!'  I  did  believe  it  then,  Ishmael; 
for  your  words  and  tones  and  manner  carried  irresistible 
conviction  to  my  mind.  And  every  year  since  I  have  been 
confirmed  in  my  belief.  You,  Ishmael,  are  the  pledge  of 
your  parents'  honor  as  well  as  of  their  love.  'Men  do  not 
gather  grapes  of  thorns,  nor  figs  of  thistles,' "  said  Mr.  Mid- 
dleton, earnestly. 

"And  yet,  sir,  I  hare  suffered  and  may  again  suffer  r«- 


22  Bee. 

proach  thaL  neither  myself  nor  my  parents  deeerved,"  said 
Ishmael,  gravely. 

"You  never  will  again,  Ishmael.  You  have  overcome  the 
world."  • 

"Thank  you!  thank  you,  sir!  I  purpbsely  reminded  you 
of  this  old  injustice.  You  do  not  regard  me  the  less  for  hav- 
ing sutfered  it?" 

"The  less!  No,  my  boy;  but  the  more,  for  having  over- 
come it." 

"Again  I  thank  you  from  the  depths  of  my  heart.  You 
have  known  me  from  boyhood,  Mr.  Middleton ;  and  you  may 
be  said  to  know  my  character  and  my  prospects  better  than 
any  one  else  in  the  world  does;  better,  even,  than  I  know 
them  myself." 

"I  think  that  quite  likely  to  be  true." 

"Well,  sir,  I  hope  in  a  few  years  to  gain  an  established 
reputation  and  a  moderate  competency  by  my  practice  at  the 
bar." 

"You  will  gain  fame  and  wealth,  Ishmael." 

"Well,  sir,  if  ever  by  the  blessing  of  heaven  I  do  attain 
these  distinctions,  taking  everything  else  into  consideration, 
would  you,  sir,  would  you  then " 

"What,  Ishmael?    Speak  out,  my  boy?" 

"Accept  me  as  a  son?" 

"Do  you  want  me  to  give  you  Bee?"  gravely  inquired 
Mr.  Middleton. 

"When  I  shall  be  more  worthy  of  her,  I  do." 

"Have  you  Bee's  consent  to  speak  to  me  on  this  subject  ?" 

"No,  sir;  I  have  not  yet  addressed  Miss  Middleton.  1 
could  not  venture  to  do  so  without  your  sanction.  It  is 
to  obtain  it  that  I  have  come  to  you  this  evening.  I  would 
like  very  much  to  have  an  understanding  with  Miss  Middle- 
ton  before  we  part  for  an  indefinite  time." 

Mr.  Middleton  fell  into  deep  thought.  It  was  some  min- 
utes before  he  spoke.     When  he  did,  it  was  to  say: 

"Ishmael,  Bee  is  my  eldest  daughter  and  favorite  child.'* 

"I  know  it,  sir,"  answered  the  young  man. 

"Parents  ought  not  to  have  favorites  among  their  chil- 
dren; but  how  can  I  help  it?    Bee  is  almost  an  angel." 

"I  know  it,  sir,"  said  Ishmael. 

"Oh,  yes ;  you  know  it  I  you  know  it  I"  exclaimed  Mr.  Mid- 
dleton, half  laughing  and  not  far  from  crying;  "but  do  you 
know  what  you  do  when  you  ask  a  father  to  give  up  his  best 
beloved  daughter?" 

"Indeed  I  think  I  do,  sir ;  but — daughters  must  soma  time 
or  other  become  wives,"  said  Ishmael,  with  a  deprecating 
smile. 

_  "Yes,  it  is  true !"  sighed  Mr.  Middleton.    "Well,  Ishmael, 
since  in  the  course  of  nature  I  must  some  day  give  my  dear 


Bee.  53 

aaugnter  up,  I  would  rather  give  her  to  you  than  to  any 
man  on  earth,  for  I  have  a  great  esteem  and  affection  for 
you,  Ishmael." 

"Indeed,  sir,  it  is  mutual !"  replied  the  young  man,  grasp- 
ing the  hand  of  his  friend. 

"It  is  just  the  state  of  feeling  that  should  exist  hetween. 
father  and  son-in-law,"  said  Mr,  Middleton. 

"I  have  your  sanction,  then,  to  speak  to  Bee  ?" 

"Yes,  Ishmael,  yes;  I  will  give  her  to  you  I  But  not  yet, 
my  dear  boy;  for  several  reasons  not  just  yet!  You  are  both 
very  young  yet;  you  are  but  little  over  twenty-one;  she 
scarcely  nineteen;  and,  besides,  her  mother  still  needs  her 
assistance  in  taking  care  of  the  children;  and  I — must  get 
used  to  the  idea  of  parting  with  her;  so  you  must  wait  a 
year  or  two  longer,  Ishmael!  She  is  well  worth  waiting 
for." 

"I  know  it !  Oh,  I  know  it  well,  sir !  I  have  seen  women 
as  beautiful,  as  amiable  and  as  accomplished;  but  I  never, 
no,  never  met  with  one  so  'altogether  lovely'  as  Bee !  And  I 
thank  you,  sir !  Oh,  I  thank  you  more  than  tongue  can  tell 
for  the  boon  you  have  granted  me.  You  will  not  lose  your 
daughter,  sir;  but  you  will  gain  a  son;  and  I  will  be  a  true 
son  to  you,  sir,  as  heaven  hears  me!  And  to  her  I  will  be 
a  true  lover  and  husband.  Her  happiness  shall  be  the  very 
first  object  in  my  life,  sir;  nothing  in  tliis  world  over  which 
I  have  the  slightest  control  shall  be  suffered  to  come  into 
competition  with  it." 

"I  am — I  am  sure  of  that,  my  boy!"  replied  Mr.  Middle- 
ton,  in  a  broken  voice. 

"And  I  do  not  presume  to  wish  to  hurry  you  or  her,  sir; 
I  am  willing  to  wait  your  leisure  and  hers;  all  I  want  now 
is  to  have  an  understanding  with  Bee,  and  to  be  admitted 
to  the  privileges  of  an  accepted  lover.  You  could  trust  me 
so  far,  sir?" 

"Trust  you  so  far!  Why,  Ishmael,  there  is  no  limit  to 
my  trust  in  you." 

"And  Mrs.  Middleton,  sir?" 

"Why,  Ishmael,  she  loves  you  as  one  of  her  own  children ; 
and  I  do  think  you  would  disappoint  and  grieve  he?  if  you 
were  to  marry  out  of  the  family.  I  will  break  the  matter  to 
Mrs.  Middleton.  Go  find  Bee,  and  speak  to  her  of  this  mat- 
ter, and  when  you  have  won  her  consent,  bring  her  to  me 
that  I  may  join  your  hands  and  bless  your  betrothal." 

Ishmael  fervently  pressed  the  hand  of  his  kind  friend  and 
left  him. 


24  Second  Love. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SECOND  LOVE. 

'After  tea,  Ishmael,  having  missed  Bee  from  the  dvawing- 
room,  went  out  into  the  garden,  expecting  to  find  her  there. 
Kot  seeing  her,  he  walked  up  and  down  the  gravel  walk,  wait- 
ing for  her  appearance. 

Presently  she  came  up,  softly  and  silently,  and  joined 
him. 

"Thanks,  dearest  Bee,"  he  said,  as  he  drew  her  arm  within 
his  own. 

"It  is  a  beautiful  evening,  Ishmael;  I  have  never  seen 
the  garden  look  more  lovely,"  said  Bee. 

And  it  was  indeed  a  beautiful  evening  and  a  lovely  scene. 
The  sun  had  just  set;  but  all  the  western  horizon  and  the 
waters  of  the  distant  river  were  aflame  with  the  crimson 
fire  of  his  reflected  rays. 

"This  garden  is  a  very  pleasant  place,  quite  as  pleasant 
as  Tanglewood,  if  uncle  would  only  think  so,"  said  Bee. 

"Yes,  it  is  very  pleasant.  You  do  not  like  the  plan  of 
returning  to  the  country,  Bee?"  said  Ishmael. 

"No,  indeed,  I  do  not;  breaking  up  and  parting  is  always 
a  painful  process."  And  Bee's  lips  quivered  and  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes. 

Ishmael  pressed  the  little  hand  that  lay  light  as  a  snow- 
flake  on  his  arm,  drew  it  closer  within  his  embrace,  and 
turned  down  the  narrow  path  that  led  to  the  remote  arbor 
situated  far  down  in  the  angle  of  the  wall  in  the  bottom 
of  the  garden. 

He  led  her  to  a  seat,  placed  himself  beside  her,  took  her 
hand,  and  said: 

"It  is  here,  dearest  Bee — here  in  the  scene  of  my  humilia- 
tion and  of  my  redemption — that  I  would  say  to  you  all  I 
have  to  say ;  that  I  would  lay  my  heart  open  before  you,  and 
place  it  at  your  feet,  for  spurning,  or  for  blessing." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  surprise,  but  also  with  infinite 
affection  in  her  innocent  and  beautiful  eyes.  Then,  as  she 
read  the  truth  in  his  earnest  gaze,  her  eyes  fell,  and  her  color 
rose. 

"Dearest  Bee,"  he  resumed,  "you  are  aware  that  1  loved 
another  before  loving  you.  I  love  her  no  longer.  When  by 
her  marriage  with  another  my  love  would  have  become  sin- 
ful, it  was  sentenced  to  death  and  executed.  But,  Bee,  it 
died  hard,  very  hard;  and  in  its  violent  death-throes  it  rent 
and  tore  m^  heart,  as  the  evil  spirit  did  the  poMMsed  man. 


Second  Love.  25 

when  it  was  driven  out  of  him.  Bee,  my  darling,"  said  Ish- 
mael,  smiling  for  the  first  time  since  commencing  the  inter- 
view, "this  may  seem  to  you  a  very  fanciful  way  of  putting 
the  case ;  but  it  is  a  good  one,  for  in  no  other  manner  could  I 
give  you  to  understand  how  terrible  my  sufferings  have  been 
for  the  last  few  weeks,  how  completely  my  evil  passion  has 
perished;  and  yet  how  sore  and  weak  it  has  left  my  heart. 
Bee,  it  is  this  heart,  wounded  and  bleeding  from  a  dead  love, 
yet  true  and  single  in  its  affection  for  you,  that  I  open  before 
you  and  lay  at  your  feet.  Spurn  it  away  from  you,  Bee,  and 
I  cannot  blame  you.  Raise  it  to  your  own  and  I  shall  love 
and  bless  you." 

Bee  biirst  into  tears. 

He  put  his  arm  around  her  and  drew  her  to  his  side  and 
she  dropped  her  head  upon  his  shoulder  and  wept  passionate- 
ly. Many  times  she  tried  to  speak,  but  failed.  At  last,  when 
she  had  exhausted  all  her  passion,  she  raised  her  head  from 
its  resting-place.  He  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and 
stooping,  whispered : 

"You  will  not  reject  me.  Bee,  because  I  loved  another 
woman  once?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  softly,  "for  if  you  loved  another 
woman  before  me,  you  could  not  help  it,  Ishmael.  It  is  not 
that  I  am  concerned  about." 

"What,  then,  dearest  love  ?    Speak  out,"  he  whispered. 

"Oh,  Ishmael,  tell  me  truly  one  thing — "  and  she  hid  her 
face  on  his  shoulder  while  she  breathed  the  question:  "Isn't 
it  only  for  7ny  sake,  to  please  me  and  make  me  happy,  that 
you  offer  me  your  love,  Ishmael?  Do  you  not  offer  me  your 
love  only  because — because  you  have  found  out — found  out 
somehow  or  other  that  I — that  I  loved  you  first  V 

He  clasped  her  suddenly  close  to  his  heart,  and  whispered 
eagerly : 

"I  offer  you  my  love  because  I  love  you,  best  and  dearest  of 
all  dear  ones !"  And  he  felt  at  that  moment  that  he  did  love 
her  entirely.  "Your  love  has  always  been  the  greatest  earth- 
ly blessing  heaven  ever  bestowed  upon  my  life!  I  thank 
heaven  that  the  blindness  and  madness  of  my  heart  is  past 
and  gone,  and  I  am  enabled  to  see  and  understand  this !  Your 
love.  Bee,  is  the  only  earthly  thing  that  can  comfort  all  the 
sorrows  that  may  come  into  my  life,  or  crown  all  its  joys. 
You  will  believe  this,  my  dearest  Bee,  when  you  will  remem- 
ber that  I  never  in  my  life  varied  from  the  truth  to  any  one, 
and  least  of  all  would  I  prevaricate  with  you.  7  love  you. 
Bee,  let  those  three  words  answer  all  your  doubts !" 

Brightly  and  beautifully  she  smiled  up  through  her  tears. 

"All  is  well,  then,  Ishmael!  For  all  that  I  desire  in  this 
7orld  is  the  privilege  of  making  you  happy!" 

"Then  you  are  my  own!"  he  said,  st.onning  and  kissing  the 


26  A  Surprise. 

sparkling  tears  that  hung  like  dewdrops  on  the  red  roaes  of 
her  cheeks;  and  holding  her  to  his  heart,  in  profound  re- 
ligious joy  and  gratitude,  he  bowed  his  head  and  said: 

"Oh,  Father  in  heaven  1  how  I  thank  Thee  for  this  dear 
girl !  Oh,  make  me  every  day  more  worthy  of  her  love,  and 
of  Thy  many  blessings !" 

And  soon  after  this  Ishmael,  happier  than  he  ever  thought 
it  possible  to  be  in  this  world,  led  forth  from  the  arbor  his  be- 
trothed bride. 

He  led  her  at  once  to  the  house  and  to  the  presence  of  her 
parents,  whom  he  found  in  their  private  sitting-room. 

Standing  before  them  and  holding  her  hand,  he  said: 

"She  has  promised  to  be  my  wife,  and  we  are  here  for  your 
blessing." 

"You  have  it,  my  children !  You  have  it  with  all  my  heart  I 
May  the  Lord  of  heaven  bless  with  his  choicest  blessings 
Ishmael  and  Beatrice!"  said  Mr.  Middleton,  earnestly. 

"Amen,"  said  Mrs.  Middleton. 


CHAPTEE    VI. 

A      SURPRISE. 

Ishmael  was  settled  in  his  new  apartments  on  the  first 
floor  of  a  comfortable  house  on  Louisiana  avenue.  The  front 
room,  opening  upon  the  street,  and  having  his  name  and  pro- 
fession engraved  upon  a  silver  plate  attached  to  the  door, 
was  his  public  office ;  the  middle  room  was  his  private  office ; 
and  the  back  room,  which  opened  upon  a  pleasant  porch 
leading  into  the  garden,  was  his  bed-chamber. 

The  house  was  kept  by  two  sisters,  maiden  ladies  of  ven- 
ei-able  age,  who  took  no  other  boarders  or  lodgers. 

So,  upon  the  whole,  Ishmael's  quarters  were  very  comfort- 
able. 

The  rapid  increase  of  his  business  justified  him  in  taking  a 
clerk;  and  then  in  a  week  or  two,  as  he  saw  this  clerk  over- 
tasked, he  took  a  second ;  both  young^  men  who  had  not  been 
very  successful  as  barristers,  but  who  were  very  good  office 
lawyers. 

Ishmael's  affairs  went  on  "swimmingly."  It  was  near  the 
first  of  September  before  he  found  leisure  to  take  a  holiday 
and  pay  his  promised  visits. 

Two  weeks  was  the  utmost  length  of  time  he  could  allow 
himself.  And  there  were  four  places  that  seemed  to  have 
equal  claims  upon  his  society. 

At  Woodside  were  ITannnh  and  Reuben,  who  had  cared  for 
him  in  his  orphaned  infancy,  and  who  really  seemed  to  have 
the  first  right  to  him. 

And  at  T^nglewood  -Tudt^e  "^Torlin  T„ao  olon^  moping  f c  r 


A  Surprise.  •  27 

the  want  of  his  lost  daughter  and  needing  the  consolation 
of  a  visit  from  Ishmael. 

At  the  Beacon  was  his  betrothed  bride,  wh,o  was  also  anx- 
ious to  see  him. 

And,  finally,  at  Brudenell  Hall  was  Herman  Brudenell; 
and  Herman  Brudenell  was — his  father! 

After  a  little  reflection,  Ishmael's  right-mindedness  decided 
in  favor  of  Woodside.  Hannah  had  stood  in  his  mother's 
place  toward  him,  and  to  Hannah  he  would  go  first. 

So,  to  get  there  by  the  shortest  route,  Ishmael  took  pass- 
age in  the  little  steamer  "Errand  Boy,"  that  left  George- 
town every  week  for  the  mouth  of  the  river,  stopping  at  all 
the  intervening  landing-places. 

Ishmael  started  on  Friday  morning  and  on  Saturday  after- 
noon was  set  ashore  at  Shelton,  whence  a  pleasant  walk  of 
three  miles  through  the  forest  that  bordered  the  river  brought 
him  to  Woodside. 

A  royal  welcome  awaited  Ishmael  at  Woodside,  not  only 
from  Reuben  and  Hannah,  but  from  the  servants  and  chil- 
dren. 

Late  that  evening,  when  most  of  the  family  had  retired, 
Ishmael  made  to  Reuben  the  disclosure  regarding  his  father, 
Herman  Brudenell.  Reuben  understood  now  several  strange 
events  which  before  had  perplexed  him.  He  was  cautioned 
against  speaking  of  this  confidential  communication  to  any 
one  except  Hannah,  and  she  was  also  requested  to  be  reticent 
regarding  it. 

After  breakfast  on  the  following  morning,  Ishmael,  prom- 
ising to  return  in  the  evening,  set  out  for  Tanglewood  to 
spend  the  day  and  go  to  church  with  Judge  Merlin. 

How  he  enjoyed  that  Sunday  morning  walk  through  the 
depths  of  the  forest  that  lay  between  Woodside  and  Tangle- 
wood. 

He  reached  the  house  just  as  the  judge  had  finished  break- 
fast. He  was  shown  into  the  room  while  the  old  man  still 
lingered  in  sheer  listlessness  over  his  empty  cup  and  plate. 

"Eh,  Ishmael!  is  that  you,  my  boy?  Lord  bless  my  soul, 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you !  Old  Jacob  was  never  so  glad  to 
see  Joseph  as  I  am  to  see  you!"  was  the  greeting  of  the 
judge,  as  he  started  up,  overturning  his  chair  and  seizing 
both  his  visitor's  hands  and  shaking  them  vigorously. 

"And  I  am  very  glad  indeed  to  see  you  again,  sir !  I  hope 
you  have  been  well?"  said  Ishmael,  warmly,  returning  his 
greeting. 

"Well?  Hum,  ha,  how  can  I  be  well?  What  is  that  the 
poet  says  ? 

"  What  stamps  the  wrinkles  deepest  on  the  brow. 
It  is  to  be  alone  as  I  am  now  1' 


28  A  Surprise. 

I  miag  Claudia,  Ishmael.    I  miss  her  sadly." 

"Lady  Vincent  will  be  with  you  soon,  sir,"  observed  Ish- 
mael, in  as  steady  a  voice  as  he  could  command. 

"Yes,  she  will  come  on  the  first  of  October  and  stop  with 
me  for  a  month.  So  her  letter  of  Wednesday  received  yester- 
day says.  And  then  I  shall  lose  her  forever  ?"  complained  the 
judge,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"Ah,  but  you  must  look  on  the  bright  side,  sir!  You  are 
independent.  You  have  time  and  money  at  your  own  dis- 
posal; and  no  very  strong  ties  here.  You  can  visit  Lady  Vin- 
cent as  often  and  stay  with  her  as  long  as  you  please,"  smiled 
Ishmael,  cheerfully. 

"Why,  so  I  can !  I  never  thought  of  that  before !  I  may 
certainly  pass  at  least  half  my  time  with  my  daughter  if  I 
please!"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  brightening  up. 

"Are  you  going  to  church  this  morning,  sir  ?"  inquired  Ish- 
mael. 

"You  are,  of  course!"  said  the  judge;  "for  you  take  care 
never  to  miss  morning  service !    So  I  must  go !" 

"Not  on  my  account.    I  know  the  road,"  smiled  Ishmael. 

"Oh,  in  any  case  I  should  go.  I  promised  to  go  and  dine 
at  the  parsonage,  so  as  to  attend  afternoon  service  also.  And 
when  I  mentioned  to  Mr.  Wynne  that  I  was  expecting  you 
down,  he  requested  me,  if  you  arrived  in  time,  to  bring  you 
with  me,  as  he  was  desirous  of  forming  your  acquaintanoe. 
So  you  see,  Ishmael,  your  fame  is  spreading." 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  you  and  to  Mr.  Wynne,"  said  Ish- 
mael, as  his  heart  suddenly  thrilled  to  the  memory  that 
Wynne  was  the  name  of  the  minister  who  had  miited  his 
parents  in  their  secret  marriage. 

"Has  Mr.  Wynne  been  long  in  this  parish  ?"  he  inquired. 

"Some  three  or  four  months,  I  believe.  This  is  his  native 
State,  however.  He  used  to  be  stationed  at  the  Baymouth 
church,  but  left  it,  some  years  ago,  to  go  as  a  missionary 
to  Farther  India ;  but  as  of  late  his  health  failed,  he  returned 
home,  and  accepted  the  call  to  take  charge  of  this  parish." 

Ishmael  looked  wistfully  in  the  face  of  the  judge,  and  said : 

"It  was  very  kind  in  Mr,  Wynne  to  think  of  inviting  me. 
Why  do  you  suppose  he  did  it  ?" 

"Why,  I  really  do  suppose  that  the  report  of  your  splendid 
successes  in  Washington  has  reached  him,  and  he  feels  some 
curiosity  to  see  a  young  man  who  in  so  short  a  time  has 
attained  so  high  a  position." 

"ISTo,  it  is  not  that,"  said  Ishmael,  with  a  genuine  blusi 
at  this  great  praise ;  "but  do  you  really  not  know  what  it  is  ?" 

"I  do  not,  unless  it  is  what  I  said,"  replied  the  judge,  rais- 
ing his  eyebrows. 

"He  married  my  parents,  and  baptized  me;  he  knows  that  I 
bear  my  mother's  maiden  name;  and  he  was  familiar  with  my 


A  Surprise.  29 

early  poverty  and  struggles  for  life;  he  left  the  neighbor- 
hood when  I  was  about  eight  years  old,"  said  Ishmael  in  a 
low  voice. 

The  judge  opened  his  eyes  and  dropped  his  head  upon  his 
chin  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  said : 

"Indeed!  Your  father,  when  he  told  me  of  his  marriage 
with  your  mother,  did  not  chance  to  mention  the  minister's 
name.  Everything  else,  I  believe,  he  candidly  revealed  to 
me,  under  the  seal  of  confidence;  this  omission  was  acci- 
dental, and  really  unimportant.  But  how  surprised  Brudenell 
will  be  to  leirn  that  his  old  friend  and  confidant  is  stationed 
here!" 

"Yea." 

"And  now  I  can  thoroughly  understand  the  great  interest 
Mr.  Wynne  feels  in  you.  It  is  not  every  minister  who  is  the 
confidant  in  such  a  domestic  tragedy  as  that  of  your  poor 
mother  was,  Ishmael.  It  is  not  only  the  circumstances  of 
your  birth  that  interest  him  in  you  so  much,  but  those  taken 
in  connection  with  your  recent  successes.  I  should  advise 
you  to  meet  Mr.  Wynne's  advances." 

"I  shall  gratefully  do  so,  sir." 

"And  now  I  really  do  suppose  it  is  time  to  order  the  car- 
riage if  we  mean  to  go  to  church  to-day,"  said  the  judge  ris- 
ing and  touching  the  bell. 

Jim  answered  it. 

"Have  the  gray  horses  put  to  the  barouche  and  brought 
around." 

In  twenty  minutes  the  carriage  was  ready,  and  they  started 
for  the  church,  which  was  some  five  miles  distant. 

An  hour's  drive  brought  them  to  it. 

A  picturesque  scene  that  old  St.  Mary's  Church  presented. 

It  was  situated  in  a  clearing, of  the  forest  beside  the  turn- 
pike road.  It  was  built  of  red  brick,  and  boasted  twelve 
gothic  windows  and  a  tall  steeple.  The  church-yard  was 
fenced  in  with  a  low  brick  wall,  and  had  some  interesting  old 
tombstones,  whose  dates  were  coeval  with  the  first  settlement 
of  the  State. 

Many  carriages  of  every  description,  from  the  barouche  of 
the  gentleman  to  the  cart  of  the  laborer,  were  scattered  about, 
drawn  up  under  the  shade  of  the  trees.  And  saddle-horses 
and  donkeys  were  tied  here  and  there.  And  groups  of  negroes, 
in  their  gay  Sunday  attire,  stood  gossiping  among  the  trees. 
Some  young  men,  as  usual,  were  loitering  at  the  church  door. 

The  judge's  carriage  drew  up  under  the  shade  of  a  forest 
tree,  and  the  judge  and  Ishmael  then  ali^^hted,  and,  leaving 
the  horses  in  the  care  of  the  coachman,  went  into  the  cJiurch. 

The  congregation  were  already  assembled,  and  soon  after 
Juds^  IVfcT-Ki",  f^iid  iiig  guest  took  their  seats  tb<^  mim'ster  en- 


30  A  Surprise. 

tered  and  took  his  place  at  the  reading-desk  and  the  services 
commenced. 

There  was  little  in  this  Sunday  morning's  service  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  others  of  the  same  sort.  The  minister  was 
a  good  man  and  a  plodding  country  parson.  He  read  the 
morning  prayers  in  a  creditable  but  by  no  means  distin- 
guished manner.  And  he  preached  a  sermon,  more  remark- 
able for  its  practical  bearing  than  for  its  eloquence  or  origi- 
nality, his  text  being  in  these  words: 

"Faith  without  works  is  dead." 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  services,  while  the  congregation 
v/ere  leaving  the  church,  the  minister  descended  from  his 
pulpit  and  advanced  toward  Judge  Merliu,  who  was  also  has- 
tening to  meet  his  pastor. 

There  was  a  shaking  of  hands. 

Judge  Merlin,  who  was  an  eminently  practical  man  in  all 
matters  but  one,  complimented  the  preacher  on  his  practical 
sermon. 

And  then,  without  waiting  to  hesr  Mr.  Wynne's  disclaimer, 
he  beckoned  Ishmael  to  step  forward,  and  the  usual  formula 
of  introduction  was  performed: 

"Mr.  Wynne,  permit  me — Mr.  Worth.  Mr.  Worth,  Mr. 
Wynne!" 

And  then  were  two  simultaneous  bows  and  more  hand- 
shaking. 

But  both  the  judge  and  Ishmael  noticed  the  wistful  look 
with  which  the  latter  was  regarded  by  the  minister. 

Mr.  Wynne  saw  in  Ishmael  the  likene;:-s  to  both  his  parents, 
and  noted  how  happily  Nature  had  distinguished  him  with 
the  best  points  of  each.  And  he  was  wondering  at  the  mira- 
cle of  seeing  that  the  all-forsaken  child,  born  to  poverty, 
shame,  and  obscurity,  was  by  the  Lord's  blessing  on  his  own 
persevering  efforts,  certainly  rising  to  wealth,  honor  and 
fame ! 

Mr.  Wynne  renewed  his  pressing  invitation  to  Judge  Mer- 
lin and  Mr.  Worth  to  accompany  him  home  to  dinner. 

And  as  they  accepted  the  minister's  hospitality,  the  whole 
party  moved  off  toward  the  parsonage,  which  was  situated 
in  another  clearing  of  the  forest  about  a  quarter  of  a  m'lo 
behind  the  church.  - 

The  parson  was  blessed  with  the  parson's  luck  of  a  large 
family,  consisting  of  a  wife,  several  sisters  and  sisters-in-law, 
and  nieces,  and  so  many  sons  and  daughters  of  all  ages,  from 
one  month  old  to  twenty  years,  that  the  judge,  after  counting 
thirteen  before  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  list,  gave  up  the 
job  in  despair. 

Notwithstanding,  or  perhaps  because  of  this,  foj  **the  more, 
the  merrier,"  you  know,  the  family  dinner  passed  off  pleas- 


Why  Claudia  Was  Alone.  3 1 

antlj.  And  after  dinner  they  all  returned  to  church  to  at- 
tend the  afternoon  service. 

And  when  that  was  ended,  Judge  Merlin  and  Tshmael 
took  leave  of  the  parson  and  his  family  and  returned  home. 

When  they  reached  Tanglewood  and  alighted,  the  judge, 
who  was  first  out,  was  accosted  by  his  servant  Jim,  who  spoke 
a  few  words  in  a  low  tone,  which  had  the  effect  of  hurrying 
the  judge  into  the  house. 

Ishmael  followed  at  his  leisure. 

lie  entered  the  drawing-room  and  was  walking  slowly 
and  thoughtfully  up  and  down  the  room,  when  the  sound  of 
voices  in  the  adjoining  library  caught  his  ear  and  transfixed 
him  to  the  spot. 

"Yes,  papa,  I  am  here,  and  alone!  strange  as  this  may 
eeem  I" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Claudia  that  spoke  these  words ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WHY    CLAUDU    WAS    ALONE. 

Ishmael  stood  transfixed  to  the  spot — for  a  moment— and 
then  breaking  the  spell  with  which  the  sound  of  Claudia's 
voice  had  bound  him,  he  passed  into  the  hall,  took  his  hat 
from  the  rack,  and  said  to  Jim,  who  was  still  in  attendance 
there : 

"Give  my  respects  to  your  master,  and  say  that  I  have  an 
engagem.ent  this  evening  that  obliges  me  to  withdraw.  And 
give  him  my  adieux." 

"But,  Mr.  Ishmael,  sir,  you  will  wait  for  tea.  Lady  Vin- 
cent is  here,  sir,  just  arrived "  began  Jim,  with  the  affec- 
tionate freedom  of  a  petted  servant. 

But  Ishmael  had  left  the  hall,  to  keep  his  promise  of  spend- 
ing the  evening  with  Eeuben  and  Hannah. 

Claudia,  standing  by  her  father's  side  in  the  library,  had 
also  heard  the  sound  of  Ishmael's  voice,  as  he  spoke  to  the 
servant  in  the  hall;  and  she  suddenly  ceased  talking  and 
looked  as  if  turned  to  stone. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  my  dear?"  inquired  ths  judge, 
surprised  at  the  panic  into  which  she  had  been  cast. 

"Papa,  he  here !"  she  said. 

"Who?" 

"Ishmael!" 

'Tes!    Why?" 

"Papa,  make  some  excuse  and  get  rid  of  him.  I  must 
not,  cannot,  will  not  meet  him  now !"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  half 
breathless  voice  of  ill-suppressed  excitement. 

The  judge  looked  at  his  daughter  wistfully,  painfully,  for 


32  Why  Claudia  Was  Alone. 

a  moment,  and  then,  as  something  like  the  truth  in  regard 
to  Claudia's  feelings  broke  upon  him,  he  replied  very  grave- 
ly: 

"My  dear,  you  need  not  meet  him;  and  he  has  saved  me 
the  embarrassment  of  sending  him  away.  He  has  gone,  if  I 
mistake  not." 

^  "If  you  'mistake'  not !    There  must  be  no  question  of  this, 
sir!    See!  and  if  he  has  not  gone,  tell  him  to  go  directly!" 

"Claudia!!" 

"Oh,  papa,  I  am  nearly  crazy!     Go!" 
.  The  judge  stepped  out  into  the  hall,  and  made  the  neces- 
sary inquiries. 

And  Jim  gave  Ishmael's  message. 

With  this  the  judge  turned  to  Claudia. 

"He  is  gone.  And  now,  my  dear,  I  wish  to  know  why  it 
is  that  you  are  here  alone  ?  I  never  in  my  life  heard  of  such 
a  thing !    Where  is  Vincent  ?" 

"Papa,  I  am  nearly  fainting  with  fatigue !  Will  you  ring 
for  one  of  the  women  to  show  Euth  my  room  ?  I  suppose  I 
have  my  old  one?"  she  said,  throwing  herself  back  in  her 
chair. 

"Why — no,  my  dear;  I  fancy  I  saw  Katie  and  the  maids 
decorating  the  suite  of  rooms  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall 
on  this  floor,  for  you.    I'll  see." 

"Anywhere,  anywhere — 'out  of  the  'World/  "  sighed  Claudia, 
as  the  judge  sharply  rang  the  bell. 

Jim  answered  it. 

"Tell  Katie  to  show  Lady  Vincent's  maid  to  her  ladj-ship's 
chamber,  and  do  you  see  the  luggage  taken  there." 

Jim  bowed  and  turned  to  go. 

"Stop,"  said  the  judge;  "Claudia,  my  dear,  what  refresh- 
ment will  you  take  before  you  go  up?  A  glass  of  wine?  a 
cup  of  tea?"  he  inquired,  looking  anxiously  upon  the  harassed 
countenance  and  languid  figure  of  his  daughter. 

"A  cup  of  coffee,  papa,  if  they  have  any  ready;  if  not, 
anything  they  can  bring  quickest." 

"A  cup  of  coffee  for  Lady  Vinc&nt  in  one  minute,  ready 
or  not  ready!"  was  the  somewhat  unreasonable  command  of 
the  judge. 

Jim  disappeared  to  deliver  all  his  master's  orders. 

And  it  seemed  that  the  coffee  was  ready,  for  he  almost 
immediately  reappeared  bearing  a  tray  with  the  service  ar- 
ranged upon  it.  The  beverage  must  have  been  strono:,  to 
judge  by  its  effects  upon  Claudia. 

"Take  it  away,"  she  said,  after  having  drank  two  cupfuls. 
"Papa,  I  feel  better;  and  while  Ruth  is  unpacking  ray  clothes, 
I  may  just  as  well  sit  here  and  toll  you  why,  if  indeed  I 
really  know  why,  I  am  here  alone.  We  were  at  Niagara, 
.where  we  had  intended  to  remain  throughout  this  month  of 


Wliy  Claudia  Was  Alone.  3^^ 

September.  All  the  world  seemed  to  know  where  we  were  and 
how  long  we  intended  to  stay;  for  you  are  aware  how  absurdly 
we  democratic  and  republican  Americans  worship  rank  and 
title;  and  how  certain  our  reporters  would  be  to  chronicle 
the  movements  of  Lord  and  Lady  Vincent,"  said  Claudia, 
with  that  air  of  world-scorn  and  self -scorn  in  which  she  often 
indulged. 

"Well,  Lady  Vincent  cannot  consistently  find  fault  with 
that,"  said  the  judge,  with  a  covert  smile. 

"Because  Lady  Vincent  shares  the  folly  or  has  shared  it," 
said  Claudia ;  "but  Lord  Vincent  certainly  did  find  fault  with 
it;  gyeat  fault;  much  greater  fault  than  was  necessary,  I 
thought,  and  grumbled  incessantly  at  our  custom  of  regis- 
tering names  at  the  hotels,  and  at  'American  snobbery  and 
impertinence'  generally." 

"Bless  his  impudence!     Who  sent  for  him?" 

"Papa,  we  should  have  quarreled  upon  this  subject  in  our 
honeymoon,  if  I  had  had  respect  enough  for  him  to  hold  any 
controversy  with  him !" 

"Claudia!" 

"Well,  I  cannot  help  it,  papa!  I  must  speak  out  some- 
where and  to  some  one !  Where  so  well  as  here,  and  to  whom 
so  well  as  to  you?" 

"You  have  not  yet  told  me  why  you  are  here  alone.  And 
I  assure  you,  Claudia,  that  the  fact  gives  me  uneasiness;  it 
is  unusual!  unprecedented!" 

"I  am  telling  you,  papa.  One  morning,  while  we  were  still 
at  Niagara,  I  was  sitting  alone  in  our  private  parlor,  when 
our  mail  was  brought  in — your  letter  for  me,  and  three  letters 
for  *my  lord.'  Of  the  latter,  the  first  bore  the  postmark  of 
Banff,  the  second  that  of  Liverpool,  and  the  third  that  of 
New  York.  They  were  all  superscribed  by  the  same  hand, 
a  delicate  female  hand ;  all  were  evidently  from  the  same  per- 
son. After  turning  them  over  and  over  in  my  hand,  and  in 
my  mind,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  first  dated  waa 
written  to  announce  the  writer  as  starting  upon  a  journey; 
the  second  to  announce  the  embarkment  at  Liverpool;  and 
the  third,  the  arrival  at  New  York;  and  that  these  letters, 
though  posted  at  different  times  and  places,  had  by  the  irreg- 
ularities of  the  ocean  mails,  happened  to  arrive  at  their  final 
destination  the  same  day.  Lord  Vincent  has  a  mother  and 
several  sisters;  yet  I  felt  very  sure  that  the  letters  never 
came  from  any  of  them;  because,  in  fact,  I  had  seen  the 
handwriting  of  each  in  their  letters  to  him.  While  I  waa 
still  wondering  over  these  rather  mysterious  letters,  my 
lord  lounged  into  the  room. 

"I  handed  him  the  letters,  the  Banff  one  being  on  the  top. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  the  handwriting  he  gave  vent  to  various 
exclamations  of  annoyance,  such  as  I  had  never  heard  frora 


34  Why  Claudia  Was  Alone. 

a  gentleman,  and  scarcely  ever  expected  to  hear  from  a  lord. 
'Bosh I'  'Bother!'  'Here's  a  gol'  'Set  fire  to  her,'  etc.,  being 
among  the  most  harmless  and  refined.  But  presently  he  saw 
the  postmarks  of  Liverpool  and  New  York  on  the  other  let- 
ters, and  after  tearing  them  open  and  devouring  their  con- 
tents he  gave  way  to  a  fury  of  passion  that  positively  ap- 
palled me.  Papal  he  cursed  and  swore  like  a  pirate  in  a 
storm !" 

"At  you?" 

"At  me  ?  I  think  not,"  answered  Claudia,  haughtily ;  "but 
at  some  person  or  persons  unknown.  However,  as  he  forgot 
himseK  so  far  as  to  give  vent  to  his  passion  in  my  presence, 
I  got  up  and  retired  to  my  chamber.  Presently  he  came  in, 
gracefully  apologized  for  his  violence;  did  not  explain  the 
cause  of  it,  however;  but  requested  me  to  give  orders  for  the 
packing  of  our  trunks,  and  be  ready  to  leave  for  New  York 
in  one  hour." 

"Did  he  give  you  no  reason  for  his  sudden  movement?" 

"Not  until  I  inquired;  then  he  gave  me  the  generally  con- 
venient, unsatisfactory  reason,  'business.'  In  an  hour,  we 
were  off  to  New  York.  But  now,  papa,  comes  the  singular 
part  of  the  affair.  When,  we  reached  the  city,  instead  of 
driving  to  one  of  the  best  hotels,  as  had  always  been  his 
custom,  he  drove  to  quite  an  inferior  place,  and  registered 
our  names — 'Captain  and  Mrs.  Jenkins.'  " 

"What  on  earth  did  he  do  that  for?" 

"How  can  I  tell  ?  When  I  made  the  same  inquiry  of  him, 
he  merely  answered  that  he  was  tired  of  being  trumpeted  to 
the  world  by  these  'impertinent  Yankee  reporters !'  The  next 
day  he  left  me  alone  in  that  stupid  place  and  went  out  on 
his  'business,'  whatever  that  was !  And  when  he  returned  in 
the  evening  he  told  me  that  the  'business'  was  happily  con- 
cluded, and  that  we  might  as  well  go  on  at  once  to  W.ishing- 
ton  and  Tanglewood,  to  pay  our  promised  visit  to  you.  _  I 
very  readily  acceded  to  that  proposition,  for,  papa,  I  was  pin- 
ing to  see  you !" 

"My  dear  child !"  said  the  judge,  with  emotion. 

"So  next  morning  we  started  for  the  Philadelphia,  Balti- 
more and  Washington  Station.  We  were  in  good  time,  and 
were  just  comfortably  seated  in  one  of  the  best  cars,  when 
Lord  Vincent  caught  sight  of  some  one  on  the  platform.  And, 
papa,  with  a  muttered  curse  he  started  up  and  hurried  from 
the  car,  throwing  behind  to  me  the  hasty  words.  'Pll  be  back 
soon.'  Five,  ten,  fifteen  minutes  passed  and  he  did  not  come! 
And  while  I  was  still  anxiously  looking  for  him,  the  train 
started.  It  was  the  express  and  came  all  tlie  way  thronah! 
And  that  is  why  myself  and  attendants  p.rc  horo  a^otie.;' 

"All  this  eeems  very  strange,  Claudia!"  said  the  judge, 


Why  Claudia  Was  Alone.  35 

with  a  troubled  countenance.  "Who  was  it  that  he  caugLfc 
sight  of  on  the  platform?" 

"A  tall,  handsome,  imperious-looking  woman,  between 
thirty  and  forty  years  of  age ;  a  sort  of  Cleopatra ;  very  dark, 
very  richly  dressed.  She  was  looking  at  him  intently  when 
he  caught  sight  of  her  and  rushed  out  as  I  said.  I  do  not 
know  whether  he  missed  the  train  by  design  or  accident;  or 
whether  he  is  at  this  moment  on  board  the  cars  steaming  to 
Washington,  or  on  board  one  of  the  ocean  packets  steaming 
to  Liverpool." 

"A  bad,  bad  business,  Claudia !  All  this  grieves  me  much ! 
You  have  been  but  two  months  married  and  you  return  to 
me  alone  and  your  husband  is  among  the  missing!  A  bad, 
bad  business,  Claudia  I"  said  the  judge  very  gravely. 

"Not  so  bad  as  your  words  would  seem  to  imply,  papa.  At 
lease,  I  hope  not !  I  am  inclined  to  think  the  detention  was 
accidental;  and  that  Lord  Vincent-  will  arrive  by  the  next 
boat,"  said  Claudia. 

"But  how  cooUy  and  dispassionately  you  speak  of  an  un- 
certainty that  would  drive  any  other  woman  almost  mad! 
At  this  moment  you  do  not  know  whether  you  are  abandoned 
or  not,  and  to  be  candid  with  you,  you  do  not  seem  to  care !" 
said  the  judge,  austerely. 

"Papa,  what  I  paid  down  my  liberty  for,  this  rank,  I 
mean,  is  safe!  And  so  whether  he  goes  or  stays,  I  am  Lady 
Vincent;  and  nothing  but  death  can  prevent  my  becoming 
Countess  of  Hurstmonceux  and  a  peeress  of  England,"  said 
Claudia,  defiantly,  as  she  arose  and  drew  her  shawl  around 
her  shoulders,  and  looked  about  herself. 

"What  is  it  that  you  want,  my  dear  ?"  inquired  the  judge. 

"Nothing!  I  was  taking  a  view  of  the  old  familiar  objects! 
How  much  has  happened  since  I  saw  them  last !  It  seems  to 
me  as  if  many  years  had  passed  since  that  time.  Well,  papa, 
I  supposed  Ruth  has  impacked  and  put  away  my  clothes  by 
tiiis  time,  and  so  I  will  leave  you  for  the  present." 

And  with  a  weary,  listless  air,  Claudia  left  the  room  and 
turned  to  go  upstairs. 

"Not  there!  not  there,  my  dear,  I  told  you.  The  rooms 
on  this  floor  have  been  prepared  for  you!"  said  the  judge, 
who  had  followed  her  to  the  door. 

With  a  sigh  Claudia  turned  and  crossed  the  hall  and  en- 
tered the  "parlor-chamber,"  as  the  large  bed-room  adjoining 
the  morning-room  was  called. 

IRuth  was  hanging  the  last  dresses  in  the  wordrobei,  and 
Jim  was  shouldering  the  last  empty  trunk  to  take  it  away. 

"I  have  left  out  the  silver  gray  glace,  for  you  to  wear  this 

evening,  if  you  please,  my  lady,"  said  Ruth,  indicating  the 

dress  that  lay  upon  the  bed. 

"That  will  do,    Ruth!"    answered    her    mistress,    whosQ 
8  .     •  ~ 


36  Off  for  fiurope. 

thoughts  were  now  not  on  dresses,  but  on  that  time  when 
Ishmael,  for  her  sake,  lay  wounded,  bleeding  and  almost 
dying  on  that  very  bed. 


CHAPTER  VIII.. 

OFF      FOR    EUROPE. 

With  every  nerve,  vein  and  artery  throbbing  with  excite- 
ment, Ishmael  hurried  away  from  the  house  that  contained 
Claudia. 

The  solitary  walk  through  the  thick  woods  calmed  his  emo- 
tion before  he  reached  Woodside. 

He  found  a  tidy  room,  a  tempting  tea-table  and  smiling 
faces  waiting  to  welcome  him. 

"That's  my  boy!"  exclaimed  Reuben,  coming  forward  and 
grasping  his  hand;  "I  tolled  Hannah  to  keep  the  tea  back  a 
spell,  'cause  I  knowed  you  wouldn't  disappoint  us." 

"As  if  I  ever  thought  you  would,  Ishmael!  Reuben  is  al- 
ways prophesying  things  that  can't  fail  to  come  true,  like  the 
rising  of  the  sun  in  the  east  every  day,  and  so  forth!  And  he 
expects  to  get  credit  for  his  foresight,"  said  Hannah,  taking 
her  seat  before  the  steaming  teapot,  and  calling  upon  the 
others  to  sit  down. 

"Well,  that  was  rayther  a  svirprise,  as  met  you  and  the 
judge  when  you  comed  home  from  church,  wasn't  it?"  in- 
quired Reuben,  as  he  began  to  cut  slices  from  the  cold  ham. 

"You  knew  of  the  arrival,  then  ?"  questioned  Ishmael. 

"Why,  bless  you,  yes!  Why,  laws,  you  know  the  carriage 
passed  right  by  here,  and  stopped  to  water  th'<  horses,  afore 
going  on  to  Tanglewood.  But  look  here !  There  was  nobody 
in  it  but  Mrs.  Vincent — blame  my  head — I  mean  Mth.  Lord 
Vincent — and  her  city  maid." 

"Lady  Vincent,  Reuben!  How  many  times  will  I  have  to 
tell  you  that?"  said  Hannah,  impatiently. 

"All  right,  Hannah,  my  dear;  I'll  remember  next  time! 
Ishmael,  my  boy,  I  think  you  got  all  your  interlects  from 
Hannah !  You  sartainly  didn't  get  'em  from  me.  Well,  as  I 
was  a  saying-of,  there  was  no  one  inside  except  Mrs.  Lord — I 
mean  Mrs.  Lady  Vincent  and  her  city  waiting-maid.  And 
on  the  outside,  a-sitting  alondside  o'  the  driver,  was  a  gentle- 
man, as  Jim  as  happened  to  be  here  introduced  to  me  as  Mr. 
Frisbie,  Lord  Vincent's  vally-sham,  whatever  that  may  be." 

**Body-servant,  Reuben,"  said  his  monitress. 

"Servant!  Well,  if  he  was  a  servant,  I  don't  kno\V 
nothink !  Why,  there  ain't  a  gentleman  in  S'  Mary's  County 
»»  dresses  as  fine  and  puts  on  as  many  airsl" 


Off  for  Europe.  37 

"That  is  quite  likely,  Uncle  Reuben ;  but  for  all  that.  Fria- 
ble is  Lord  Vincent's  servant,"  said  Ishmael. 

"Well,  hows'ever  that  may  be,  there  he  was  alongside  o' 
the  driver.  But  what  staggers  of  me  is,  that  there  wa'n't 
no  Lord  Vincent  nowhere  to  be  seen!  He  was  'mong  the 
missin'.  And  that  was  the  rummest  go  as  ever  was !  A  new 
bride  a  comin'  home  to  her  pa  without  no  bridegroom.  And 
so  I  jest  axed  Mr.  Frisbie,  Esquire,  and  he  tolled  me  liow  his 
lordship  missed  the  trail!  What  trail!  And  what  business 
had  he  to  be  offen  the  trail,  when  his  wife  was  on  it  ?  That's 
what  I  want  to  know !  And  anyways,  it's  the  rummest  go  as 
ever  was !    Did  you  hear  anythink  about  it,  Ishmael  ?" 

"I  chanced  to  overhear  Lady  Vincent  say  to  her  father — 
ihat  she  was  alone.  That  was  all.  I  did  not  even  see  her 
ladyship." 

The  next  evening,  after  a  late  tea,  as  Ishmael  and  Reuben 
were  sitting  out  on  the  vine-shaded  porch,  enjoying  their 
usual  evening  chat  under  the  starlit  sky,  they  heard  the  sound 
of  approaching  wheels. 

In  a  few  moments  afterward  a  carriage  drew  up  at  the 
gate. 

Reuben  went  to  see  who  was  within  it.  And  Ishmael  heard 
the  voice  of  Lord  Vincent  inquiring : 

"Is  this  the  best  road  to  Tanglewood?" 

"Well,  yes,  sir;  I  do  s'pose  it's  the  best,  if  any  can  be 
called  the  best  where  none  on  'em  is  good,  but  every  one  on 
'em  as  bad  as  bad  can  be!"  was  the  encouraging  answer. 

"Drive  on!"  said  Lord  Vincent.  And  the  carriage  rolled 
out  of  sight  into  the  forest  road. 

After  all,  then,  the  viscount  had  not  absconded.  He  prob- 
ably had  missed  the  train.  But  why  had  he  missed  it  ?  That 
was  still  the  question. 

On  Tuesday  morning  Ishmael  took  leave  of  Hannah  and 
Reuben  and  started  for  the  Beacon. 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  forenoon  when  be  arrived  at  that 
cool  promontory  where  the  refreshing  sea  breezes  met  him. 

As  he  rode  up  to  the  house  that  you  know  fronted  the 
water,  he  saw  Bee,  blooming  and  radiant  with  youth  and 
beauty,  out  on  the  front  lawn  with  her  younger  sisters  and 
brothers. 

Their  restless  glances  caught  sight  of  him  first;  and  they 
all  exclaimed  at  once: 

"Here's  Ishmael,  Bee !  here's  Ishmael,  Bee !"  and  ran  off  to 
meet  him. 

Bee  impulsively  started  to  run,  too,  but  checked  herself, 
and  stood,  blushing  but  eager,  waiting  until  Ishmael  dis- 
mounted and  came  to  greet  her. 

She  met  htm  with  a  warm,  silent  welcome,  and  then  look- 
ing at  him  suddenly*  said: 


3$  Off  for  Europe. 

"You  are  so  much  better;  you  are  quite  welll  I  am  so 
glad,  Ishmael!" 

"Yes,  I  am  well  and  happy,  dearest  Bee !  thanks  to  you  and 
to  heaven!"  said  Islnuael,  warmly  pressing  her  hands  again 
to  his  lips,  before  turning  to  embrace  the  children  who  were 
jumping  around  him. 

Then  they  all  went  into  the  house,  where  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Middleton  met  him  with  an  equally  cordial  welcome. 

"And  how  did  you  leave  the  family  at  Tanglewood?  Fam- 
ily, said  I?  Ah!  there  is  no  family  there  now;  no  one  left 
but  the  old  judge.  How  is  he?  And  when  is  Claudia  and  her 
lordling  expected  back?"  inquired  Mr.  Middleton,  when  they 
were  all  seated  near  one  of  the  sea-view  windows. 

"The  judge  is  well.  Lord  and  Lady  Vincent  are  with  him," 
replied  Ishmael. 

And  then,  in  answer  to  their  exclamations  of  surprise,  he 
told  all  he  knew  of  the  unexpected  arrival. 

Ishmael  remained  all  the  week  at  the  Beacon.  And  it  was 
a  week  of  rare  enjoyment  to  him.  He  passed  nearly  all  his 
time  with  Bee  and  her  inseparable  companions,  the  children. 
He  helped  them  with  the  lessons  in  the  school-room  in  the 
morning ;  he  went  nutting  with  them  in  the  woods,  or  stroll- 
ing with  them  on  the  beach;  and  he  gave  himself  up  to  the 
task  of  amusing  them  during  the  hour  after  the  lamp  was 
lighted  that  they  were  permitted  to  remain  up. 

All  this  was  due  partly  to  his  desire  to  be  with  his  be- 
trothed, and  partly  to  his  genial  love  of  children. 

About  the  middle  of  the  week,  as  thej'  were  all  seated  at 
breakfast  one  morning,  missives  came  from  Tanglewood  to 
the  Beacon— invitations  to  dine  there  the  following  Wednes- 
day evening.  These  invitations  included  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mid- 
dleton, Beatrice  and  Ishmael. 

"You  will  go,  of  course.  Worth?"  said  Mr.  Middleton. 

"I  am  due  at  Brudenell  Hall  on  Tuesday  evening,  and  I 
must  keep  my  appointment,"  smiled  Ishmael. 

"Well,  I  suppose  that  settles  it,  for  I  never  knew  you  to 
break  an  appointment,  under  any  sort  of  temptation,'    said 

Mr.  Middleton.  ,   t  i.        v 

And  Bee,  ^vho  well  understood  why,  even  had  Ishmael  s 
time  been  at  his  own  disposal  he  should  not  have  gone  to 
Tanglewood,  silently  acquiesced. 

On  this  day  Ishmael  sought  an  interview  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Middleton,  and  besought  them,  as  his  present  income 
and  future  prospects  equally  justified  him  in  taking  a  wife, 
to  fix  some  day,  not  very  distant,  for  his  •marriage  with  Bee. 
But  the  father  and  mother  assured  him,  "in  the  firmest, 
though  the  most  affectionate  manner,  that  at  least  one  year, 
if  not  two,  must  elapse  before  they  could  consent  to  part  with 
iheir  dear  daughter. 


Off  for  Burope.  39 

Isbnael  most  earnestly  deprecated  the  two  years  of  proba- 
tion, and  finally  compromised  for  one  year,  during  which  he 
should  be  permitted  to  correspond  freely  with  his  betrothed, 
and  visit  her  at  will. 

With  this  Ishmael  rested  satisfied. 

The  remainder  of  the  week  passed  delightfully  to  him. 

Mrs.  Middleton  took  the  children  off  Bee's  hands  for  a 
few  days,  to  leave  her  to  some  enjoyment  of  her  lover's  visit. 

And  every  morning  and  afternoon  Ishmael  and  Bee  rode 
or  walked  together,  through  the  old  forest  or  along  the  pebbly 
beach.  Sometimes  they  had  a  sail  to  some  fine  point  on  the 
shore.  Their  evenings  were  passed  in  the  drawing-room, 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Middleton,  and  were  employed  in  musio, 
books   and   conversation. 

And  so  the  pleasant  days  slipped  by  and  brought  the  Sab- 
bath, when  all  the  family  went  together  to  the  old  Shelton 
church. 

Monday  was  the  last  day  of  his  visit,  and  he  pa2€ccl  it  al- 
most exclusively  in  the  society  of  Bee.  In  the  evening  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Middleton  left  them  alone  in  the  drawing-room, 
that  they  might  say  their  last  kind  words  to  each  other,  un- 
embarrassed by  the  presence  of  others. 

And  on  Tuesday  morning  Ishmael  mounted  his  horse  and 
started  for  Brudenell. 

As  he  passed  through  Baymouth  the  familiar  scenes  re- 
called many  of  the  incidents  of  his  life,  and  the  recollection 
of  them  caused  more  regret  than  pleasure. 

He  stopped  at  the  cabin  of  Jim  Morris,  the  "professor_  of 
odd  jobs,"  and  found  him  living  all  alone,  his  wife  having 
died,  and  his  two  daughters  having  married  and  moved  else- 
where. The  old  fellow  had  lost  much  of  his  vigor,  and  was 
in  indigent  circiunstances.  His  condition  touched  Ishmael's 
heart,  and  the  result  of  the  interview  was  that  Jim  was  per- 
suaded to  accompany  the  young  lawyer  to  Washington  and 
become  a  personal  attendant  upon  him,  keeping  his  rooms 
and  books  in  order,  etc. 

Nothing  of  moment  transpired  during  Ishmael's  visit  to 
his  father,  though  it  was  very  evident  that  each  enjoyed 
the  other's  society,  and  when  at  last  the  day  of  parting  came 
it  was  a  day  of  gloom  to  both. 

A  few  days  thereafter  Ishmael  had  returned  to  his  quarters 
in  Washington,  and  therein  was  installed  with  him  his  old 
friend,  Jim  Morris.  The  young'lawyer  had  invoked  the  ki:id- 
ness  of  his  hostesses,  the  Misses  Jenny  and  Nelly  Downey, 
in  behalf  of  the  professor,  and  they  promised  ishmael  that 
the  old  man  would  find  with  them  a  comfortable  home. 

It  was  not  long  after  his  return  to  the  capital  when  Ishmael 
learned  that  iiord  and  Lsdy  Vincent  were  about  to  depart 


40  Off  for  Europe. 

for  Europe,  and  that  Claudia  had  decided  to  take  with 
tliree  of  the  servants — Aunt  Katie,  Jim  and  Sally. 

The  day  of  departure  came.  Judge  Merlin  had  accom- 
panied Lord  and  Lady  Vinvent  to  their  hotel  in  New  York. 
Lower  and  lower  sank  the  heart  of  the  widowed  father  as 
the  moment  approached  that  was  to  separate  him  from  his 
only  child.  There  were  times  when  he  so  dreaded  that  mo- 
ment as  to  wish  for  death  instead.  There  were  times'  when 
he  felt  that  the  wrench  which  should  finally  tear  his  daughter 
from  him  must  certainly  prove  his  death-blow.  Yet,  for  her 
dear  sake  he  bore  himself  with  composure  and  dignity.  He 
would  not  let  her  see  the  anguish  that  was  oppressing  his 
heart. 

He  entered  the  carriage  with  her  and  drove  to  the  pier. 
He  drew  her  arm  within  his  own,  keeping  her  hand  pressed 
against  his  aching  heart,  and  so  he  led  her  up  the  gang-plank 
on  board  the  steamer.  Lord  Vincent  and  their  retinue  follow- 
ing. He  would  not  trust  himself  to  utter  any  serious  words ; 
but  he  led  her  to  find  her  state-room,  that  he  might  see  for 
himself  she  would  be  comfortable  on  her  voyage,  and  that 
he  might  carry  away  with  him  a  picture  of  her  and  her  sur- 
roundings in  his  memory.  And  then  he  brought  her  up  on 
deck  and  found  a  pleasant  seat  for  her,  and  sat  down  beside 
her,  keeping  her  arm  within  his  and  her  hand  pressed  as 
a  balm  to  liis  bleeding  heart. 

There  he  sat,  speaking  but  little,  while  active  preparations 
were  made  for  sailing.  It  looked  to  him  like  preparations  for 
an  execution. 

Lord  Vincent  walked  up  and  down  the  deck,  occasionally 
stopping  to  exchange  a  word  with  Claudia  or  the  judge. 

At  length  the  signal-bell  rang  out,  every  peal  striking  like 
a  death-toll  on  the  heart  of  the  old  man. 

And  the  order  was  shouted  forth: 

"All  hands  ashore!" 

The  moment  of  life  and  death  had  oome !  He  st-arted  up ; 
he  strained  his  daughter  to  his  breast.    He  gasped : 

"Good  bless  you,  my  dear !    Write  as  soon  as  you  land !" 

He  wrung  the  hand  of  Lord  Vincent.     "Be  good  to ** 

he  choked,  and  hurried  from  the  steamer. 

•  He  stood  alone  on  the  pier  gazing  at  the  receding  ship,  and 
at  his  daughter,  who  was  leaning  over  the  bulwarks,  waving 
her  handkerchief.  Swiftly,  swiftly,  receded  the  ship  from 
his  strained  sight.  First  his  daughter's  face  faded  from  his 
aching  vision ;  but  still  he  could  see  the  outline  of  her  form. 
A  minute  or  two,  and  even  that  grew  indistinct,  and  was  lost 
among  the  rigging.  And  while  he  was  still  straining  his  eyes 
in  the  effort  yet  to  see  her,  the  signal  gun  from  the  s-teamer 
was  fired.  The  farewell  gun!  The  report  seemed  to  echo  in 
tis  own  heart.    All  his  strength  forsook  hip;  his  well-strung 


Off  for  Europe.  41 

nerves  suddenly  relaxed;  his  limbs  gave  way  beneath  him, 
and  he  must  have  fallen  but  for  the  strong  arms  that  sud- 
denly clasped  him,  and  the  warm  bosom  that  firmly  supported 
him. 

Turning  up  his  languid,  fainting  eyes,  he  saw — 

"Ishmael !" 

Yes,  it  was  Ishmael,  who  with  a  son's  devotion  was  stand- 
ing there,  and  sustaining  Claudia's  forsaken  father  in  the 
hour  of  his  utter  weakness  and  utmost  need. 

At  first  the  judge  looked  at  him  in  surprise  and  incredu- 
lity, which  soon,  however,  gave  way  before  recognition  and 
affection,  as  he  rested  on  that  true  breast,  and  met  those 
beautiful  eyes  bent  on  him  in  deepest  sympathy, 

"Oh,  Ishmael,  Ishmael,  is  it  you?  is  it  indeed  you?  You 
here  at  need?  Oh,  my  son,  my  son,  would  to  the  Lord  that 
you  were  indeed  my  son!  It  is  a  grief  and  folly  that  you 
are  not!"  he  exclaimed,  with  emotion. 

What  could  Ishmael  reply  to  these  words  ?  Nothing !  He 
could  only  tenderly  support  the  old  man,  and  turn  to  a  gray- 
haired  servant  that  waited  behind  him  and  say : 

"Professor,  go  call  a  carriage  here  quickly!" 

And  Jim  Morris  started  on  his  errand,  with  all  the  crip- 
pled alacrity  of  age  and  zeal. 

"Oh,  Ishmael,  she  has  gone!  she  has  gone!  My  daughter 
has  left  me!"  he  groaned,  grasping  the  hand  of  his  young 
supporter. 

"I  know  it,  sir,  I  know  it!  But  this  hour  of  parting  is 
the  bitterest  of  all!  The  heart  feels  the  wrench  of  separa- 
tion keenly  now!" 

"Oh,  yes!  yes!" 

"But  every  coming  hour  will  bring  relief.  You  will  ceasw 
to  look  back  to  the  bitter  parting  and  you  will  look  forward 
to  the  happy  meeting !  And  that  meeting  may  be  as  soon  as 
you  please,  sir,  yoTj  know.  There  is  nothing  on  earth  to  pre- 
vent or  even  delay  your  visit  to  Lady  Vincent  as  soon  after 
Bhe  gets  settled  at  home,  as  you  like.  This  is  October.  You 
may  spend  Christmas  with  her,  you  know !" 

"That  is  true!  that  is  very  true,  and  Christmas  is  not  so 
very  far  off !  Ah !  I  ought  not  to  have  given  way  so,  and  I 
should  not  have  done  it,  only  I  was  quite  alone  when  they 
sailed.  There  was  no  one  with  me  to  suggest  these  comfort- 
ing thoughts,  and  I  was  too  much  prostrated  by  the  wrench 
of  parting  to  remember  them  of  myself!  Oh,  Ishmael!  what 
Providence  was  it  that  sent  you  to  my  side  in  this  extremity  ?" 
inquired  the  judge,  curiosity  mingling  with  his  interest  in 
the  question. 

"I  came  here,"  said  Ishmael,  frankly,  "with  no  other  pur- 
pose than  to  be  with  you  in  your  hour  of  trial.  I  knew  that 
you  would  require  the  presence  of  some  friend!" 


4a  Off  for  Europe. 

"Ah,  Ishmaei!  it  was  just  like  you  to  drop  all  your  busi- 
ness and  come  uncalled,  traveling  from  Washington  to  New 
York,  with  the  sole  object  of  sustaining  an  old  friend  in  the 
hour  of  his  weakness !  So  that  does  not  surprise  me !  But 
how  did  you  hit  the  time  so  well?" 

"I  knew  from  Bee's  last  letter,  dated  from  Tanglewood.  the 
day  that  Lord  Vincent  had  positively  determined  to  sail.  I 
knew  also  the  name  of  the  only  steamer  that  sailed  for  Eu- 
rope on  that  day.  And  so,  as  Bee  expressed  great  regret  that 
her  father  could  not  accompany  you  to  New  Tork,  and  great 
anxiety  because  you  would  be  left  quite  alone  after  the  trial 
of  parting  with  Claudia,  I  suddenly  resolved  to  come  on.  I 
came  on  by  the  same  train  that  brought  your  party,  although 
not  in  the  same  car.  I  reached  the  city  this  morning,  and 
finding  that  the  steamer  was  to  sail  at  twelve,  noon,  I  walked 
down  to  the  pier  at  haK-past  eleven  so  as  to  be  ready  to  meet 
you  when  you  should  come  ashore." 

"And  you  took  all  this  thought  and  trouble  for  me  ?  Oh, 
Ishmaei !  Ishmaei !  what  a  sorrow  and  shame  it  is  that  you  are 
not  my  son !" 

"I  am  your  son  in  reverence,  and  love,  and  service,  sir ;  and 
if  I  am  not  in  any  other  way  it  is  because  the  Lord  has 
willed  otherwise,"  said  Ishmaei,  very  gravely. 

"Did  you  see  Claudia  off?"  inquired  the  judge. 

"I  saw  the  steamer;  I  did  not  see  Lady  Vincent.  I  was 
in  the  rear  of  the  crowd  on  the  pier  and  looking  out  among 
them  that  I  might  not  miss  you,"  replied  Ishmaei.  But  he 
did  not  add  that  he  had  sedulously  avoided  looking  at  Claudia 
as  she  stood  beside  her  husband  on  the  deck  waving  her  hand- 
kerchief in  adieux  to  her  father. 

In  a  few  more  minutes  Jim  Morris  came  up  with  a  com- 
fortable carriage,  and  the  judge,  somewhat  recovered  now, 
was  assisted  into  it. 

"You  are  coming,  too,  Ishmaei,  are  you  not?"  said  the 
old  man,  looking  anxiously  out  of  the  window.  _ 

"Of  course  I  am,  sir;  for  with  your  permission  I  will 
not  leave  you  until  we  get  back  to  Washington,"  replied  the 
young  man,  preparing  to  spring  into  the  carriage.  But  sud- 
denly pausing  with  his  hand  on  the  door,  he  inquired : 

"Where  shall  I  order  the  hackman  to  drive?" 

The  judge  named  his  hotel,  which  happened  to  be  the 
very  one  at  which  Ishmaei  was  stopping;  and  so  the  young 
man  gave  the  order  and  entered  the  carriage. 

The  professor  climbed  up  to  a  seat  beside  the  hackman, 
and  the  hack  moved  on. 

At  Ishmael's  request  the  judge  agreed  to  remain  with  him 
for  a  couple  of  days  in  New  York.  This  sojourn  was  passed 
in  a  pleasant  way,  visiting  various  points  of  interest.    At 


Romance  and  Beauty.  43 

the  end  of  that  time  the  two  set  out  for  Washington,  accom- 
panied, of  course,  by  Jim  Morris.  There  they  arrived  in  due 
season,  and  soon  thereafter  Judge  Merlin  was  once  more  in 
his  Tanglewood  home. 

Now,  for  a  brief  period  we  must  bid  adieu  to  Ishmael  and 
leave  him  to  the  successful  prosecution  of  his  business,  and 
to  the  winning  of  new  laurels.  For  it  is  necessary  to  the 
progress  of  this  story  that  we  follow  the  fortunes  of  Claudia, 
Viscountess  Vincent. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

EOMANCE  AND  BBAUTY. 

The  "Ocean  Empress"  steamed  her  way  eastward.  The 
month  was  favorable;  the  weather  bright;  the  wind  fair  and 
the  sea  calm.  Every  circumstance  promised  a  pleasant  voy- 
age. None  but  a  few  unreasonable  people  grew  seasick;  and 
even  they  could  not  keep  it  up  long. 

There  was  a  very  select  and  agreeable  set  of  passengers 
in  the  first  cabin. 

But  Lord  and  Lady  Vincent  were  the  only  titled  persons 
present;  and  from  both  European  and  American  voyagers 
received  a  ridiculous  amount  of  homage. 

Claudia  enjoyed  the  worship,  though  she  despised  the  wor- 
shippers. Her  spirits  had  rebounded  from  their  depression. 
She  was  Lady  Vincent  and  in  the  present  enjoyment  and 
future  anticipation  of  all  the  honors  of  her  rank.  She  gloried 
in  the  adulation,  her  youth,  beauty,  wealth  and  title,  com- 
manded from  her  companions  on  the  steamer ;  but  she  gloried 
more  in  the  anticipation  of  future  successes  and  triumphs  on 
a  larger  scale  arid  a  more  extensive  field. 

She  rehearsed  in  imagination  her  arrival  in  London,  her 
introduction  to  the  family  of  the  viscount;  her  presentation 
to  the  Queen;  and  the  sensation  she  would  produce  at  her 
majesty's  drawing-room,  where  she  was  resolved,  even  if  it 
should  cost  her  her  whole  fortune,  to  eclipse  every  woman 
present,  not  only  in  the  perfection  of  her  beauty,  but  also  in 
the  magnificence  of  her  dresses  and  the  splendor  of  her  jewels. 
And  after  that,  what  a  season  she  would  pass  in  London! 
Whoever  was  queen  of  England,  she  would  be  queen  of  beauty 
and  fashion. 

She  would,  with  Lord  Vincent,  make  a  tour  of  the  Conti- 
nent; she  would  see  everything  worth  seeing  in  nature  and 
in  art,  modern  and  antique.  She  would  frequent  the  circles 
of  American  Ministers,  for  the  express  purpose  of  meeting 
there  her  countrywomen,  and  overwhelming  by  her  magnifi- 
cence those  who  had  once  dared  to  sneer  at  that  high  flavor 


44  Romance  and  Beauty. 

of  Indian  blood  which  had  given  lustre  to  her  raven  hair  and 
fire  to  her  dark  eyes  1  Returning  to  England  after  this  royal 
progress  on  the  Continent,  she  would  pass  her  days  in  cherish- 
ing her  beauty  and  keeping  up  her  state. 

Such  were  Claudia's  dreams  and  visions !  Such  the  scenes 
that  she  daily  in  imagination  rehearsed!  Such  the  future 
life  she  delighted  to  contemplate! 

Meanwhile  in  that  lovely  October  weather  the  "Empress" 
steamed  her  way  over  the  sapphire  blue  sea  and  neared  the 
cliffs  of  England. 

At  length,  on  a  fine  afternoon  in  October,  they  entered  the 
mouth  of  the  Mersey  River,  and  two  hours  later  landed  at 
Liverpool. 

Soon  all  was  bustle  with  the  custom-house  officers. 

Leaving  their  luggage  in  charge  of  his  valet,  to  be  got 
through  the  custom-house,  Lord  Vincent  hurried  Claudia 
into  a  cab,  followed  her,  and  gave  the  direction : 

"To  the  'Crown  and  Mitre.'  " 

"Why  not  go  to  the  'Adelphi?'  All  Americans  go  there, 
and  I  think  it  the  best  hotel  in  the  city,"  said  Claudia. 

"The  'Crown  and  Mitre'  will  serve  our  turn,"  was  the  curt 
reply  of  the  viscount. 

Claudia  looked  up  in  surprise  at  the  brusquenees  of  his 
answer,  and  then  ventured  the  opinion: 

"It  is  a  first-class  hotel,  of  course  ?" 

"Humph!"  answered  his  lordship. 

They  left  the  respectable-looking  street  through  which 
they  were  driving  and  turned  into  a  narrow  by-street  and 
drove  through  a  perfect  labyrinth  of  narrow  lanes  and  alleys, 
made  hideous  by  dilapidated  and  dirty  buildings  and  ragged 
and  filthy  people,  until  at  last  they  reached  a  dark,  dingy- 
looking  inn,  whose  creaking  sign  bore  in  faded  letters  "The 
Crown  and  Mitre." 

"It  is  not  here  that  you  are  taking  me.  Lord  Viscount?" 
exclaimed  Claudia  in  surprise  and  displeasure,  as  her  eyes 
fell  upon  this  house  and  sign. 

"It  certainly  is.  Lady  Vincent,"  replied  his  lordship,  with 
cool  civility,  as  he  handed  her  out  of  the  cab. 

"Why  this — this  is  worse  than  the  tavern  you  took  me  to  in 
New  York!  I  never  wa?  in  such  a  house  before  in  all  my 
life." 

"It  will  have  all  the  attractions  of  novelty,  then." 

^Lord  Vincent,  I  do  beg  that  you  will  not  take  me  into  this 
squalid  place !"  she  said,  shrinking  back. 

"You  might  find  less  attractive  places  than  this  in  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  island,"  he  replied,  as  he  drew  her 
hand  within  his  arm  and  led  her  into  the  house. 

They  found  themselves  in  a  narrow  passage,  with  btained 


Romance  and  Beauty.  45 

walls,  worn  oilcloth,  and  a  smell  of  meat,  onions  and  tobacco 
smoke. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Claudia,  in  irrepressible  disgust. 

"You  will  get  used  to  all  these  little  inconveniences  after  a 
while,  my  dear,"  said  his  lordship. 

A  man  with  a  greasy  white  apron  and  a  soiled  napkin  ap- 
proached them  and  bowed. 

"A  bed-room  and  parlor,  and  supper  immediately,"  was 
Lord  Vincent's  order  to  this  functionary. 

"Yes,  sir.  We  can  be  happy  to  accommodate  you,  sir,  with 
a  bed-room;  the  parlor,  sir,  is  out  of  our  power,  we  having 
none  vacant  at  the  present  time;  but  to-morrow,  sir— — " 
began  the  polite  waiter,  when  Lord  Vincent  cut  him  short 
with: 

"Show  us  into  the  bed-room,  then." 

"Yes,  sir."  And  bowing,  the  waiter  went  before  them  up 
the  narrow  stairs  and  led  them  into  a  dusky,  faded,  gloomy- 
looking  chamber,  whose  carpet,  curtains  and  chair  coverings 
seemed  all  of  mingled  hues  of  browns  and  grays,  and  from 
their  fadiness  and  dinginess  almost  indescribable  in  color. 

The  waiter  set  the  candle  on  the  tall  wooden  mantelpiece 
and  inquired : 

"What  would  you  please  to  order  for  supper?" 

"What  will  you  have,  madam?"  inquired  Lord  Vincent, 
referring  to  Claudia. 

"Nothing  on  earth,  in  this  horrid  place ! — I  am  heart-  sick !" 
she  added,  in  a  low,  sad  tone. 

"The  lady  will  take  nothing.     You  may  send  me  a  beef- 
steak and  a  bottle  of  Bass'  pale  ale,"  said  his  lordship,  seem- 
ingly perfectly  careless  as  to  Claudia's  want  of  appetite. 
"Yes,  sir;  shall  I  order  it  served  in  the  coffee-room?" 
"No,  send  it  up  here,  and  don't  be  long  over  it." 
The  waiter  left  the  room.    And  Lord  Vincent  walked  up 
and  down  the  floor  in  the  most  perfect  state  of  indifference 
to  Claudia's  distress. 

She  threw  herself  into  a  chair  and  burst  into  tears,  ex- 
claiming : 

"You  do  not  care  for  me  at  all !  What  a  disgusting  place 
to  oring  a  woman — not  to  say  a  lady — into!  If  you  pos- 
sessed the  least  respect  or  affection  for  me  you  would  never 
treat  me  so !" 

"I  fancy  that  I  possess  quite  as  much  respect  and  affec- 
tion for  you,  Lady  Vincent,  as  you  do,  or  ever  did,  for  me !" 
he  answered. 

And  Claudia  knew  that  he  spoke  the  truth  and  she  could 
not  contradict  him;  but  she  said: 

"Suppose  there  is  little  love  lost  between  us ;  still  we  might 
tr*^»3t  each  other  decently.    It  is  infamous  to  bring  me  here  1'^ 


46  Romance  and  Beauty. 

"You  will  lyot  be  required  to  stay  here  long." 

"I  hope  not,  indeed !" 

At  this  mo/ient  the  waiter  entered  to  lay  the  cloth  for 
the  viscount's  supper. 

"What  time  does  the  first  train  for  Aberdeen  leave?"  in- 
quired the  viscount. 

"The  first  train,  sir,  leaves  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
sir;  an  uncomfortable  hour,  sir;  and  it  is,  besides,  the  par- 
liamentary, sir !" 

"That  will  do.  See  if  my  people  have  come  up  from  the 
custom  house." 

"Yes,  sir;  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  what  name?"  inquired  the 
perplexed  waiter. 

"No  matter.  Go  look  for  a  fellow  who  has  in  charge  a 
large  number  of  boxes  and  a  party  of  male  and  female  go- 
rillas." " 

The  man  left  the  room  to  do  his  errand  and  to  report  below 
that  the  person  in  "Number  13"  was  a  showman  with  a  lot 
of  man-monkeys  from  the  interior  of  Africa. 

But  Claudia  turned  to  her  husband  in  astonishment. 

"Did  I  understand  you  to  inquire  about  the  train  to  Aber- 
deen?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  short  reply. 

"But — I  thought  we  were  going  to  London — to  Hurstmon- 
ceux  House " 

"Belgravia  ?    No,  my  dear,  we  are  going  to  Scotland." 

"But — why  this  change  of  plan?  My  father  and  myself 
certainly  understood  that  I  was  to  be  taken  to  London  and 
introduced  to  your  family  and  afterward  presented  to  Her 
Majesty !" 

"My  dear,  the  London  season  is  over  ages  ago!  Nobody 
that  is  anybody  will  be  found  in  town  until  February.  The 
court  is  at  Balmoral,  and  the  world  is  in  Scotland.  "We 
go  to  Castle  Cragg." 

"But  why  could  you  not  have  told  me  that  before  ?" 

"My  dear,  I  like  to  be  agreeable!  And  people  who  are 
always  setting  others  right  are  not  so." 

"Is  Lord  Hurstmonceux  at  Castle  Cragg  ?" 

"The  Earl  is  at  Balmoral,  in  attendance  upon  Her  Ma- 
jesty." 

"Then  why  do  we  not  go  to  Balmoral  ?" 

"The  Queen  holds  no  drawing-rooms  there." 

Claudia  suspected  that  he  was  deceiving  her;  but  she  felt 
that  it  would  do  no  good  to  accuse  him  of  deception. 

The  waiter  returned  to  the  room,  bringing  Lord  Vincent's 
substantial  supper,  arranged  on  a  tray. 

"I  have  inquired  belon',  sir;  and  there  is  no  one  arrived 
having  in  charge  your  ^oriDas.    But  there  is  a  person  with 


Romance  and  Beauty  47 

a  panorama,  sir ;  and  there  is  a  person  with  three  negro  per- 
sons, sir,"  said  the  waiter. 

"He  will  do !  Send  up  the  'person  with  the  three  negr-o  per- 
sons,' "  said  the  viscount. 

And  once  more  the  waiter  left  the  room. 

In  a  few  moments  Lord  Vincent's  valet  entered. 

"Frisbie,  we  leave  for  Scotland  by  the  four  o'clock  train, 
to-morrow  morning.     See  to  it." 

"Yes,  my  lord  1  I  beg  your  lordship's  pardon,  but  is  your 
lordship  aware  that  it  is  the  parliamentary?" 

"Certainly;  but  it  is  also  the  first.  See  to  it  that  your  go- 
rillas are  ready.    And — Frisbie!" 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

"Go  and  engage  a  first-class  carriage  for  our  own  exclusive 
use." 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  said  the  man,  with  his  hand  still  on  the 
door,  as  if  waiting  further  orders. 

'  'Lord  Vincent,  I  would  be  obliged  if  you  would  tell  him  to 
send  one  of  my  women  to  me,"  said  Claudia,  coldly. 

"Women?  Oh!  Here,  Frisbie,  send  the  female  gorillas 
up  I" 

"I  said  one  of  my  women,  the  elder  one,  he  may  send," 

"Frisbie,  send  the  old  female  gorilla  up,  then." 

The  man  went  out  of  the  room.  And  Claudia  turned  upon 
her  husband: 

"Lord  Vincent,  I  do  not  know  in  what  light  you  consider 
it;  but  I  think  your  conduct  shows  bad  wit  and  worse  man- 
ners." 

"Lady  Vincent,  I  am  sorry  you  should  disapprove  of  it," 
said  his  lordship,  falling  to  upon  his  beefsteak  and  ale,  the 
fumes  of  which  soon  filled  the  room. 

But  that  was  nothing  to  what  was  coming.  When  he  had 
finished  his  supper,  he  coolly  took  a  pipe  from  his  pocket, 
filled  it  with  "negro-head,"  and  prepared  to  light  it.  Then 
stopping  in  the  midst  of  his  operations,  he  looked  at  Claudia 
and  inquired: 

"Do  you  dislike  tobacco  smoke?" 

"I  do  not  know,  my  lord!  j^o  gentleman  ever  smoked  in 
my  presence,"  replied  Claudia,  haughtily. 

"Oh,  then,  of  course,  you  don't  know,  and  never  will  until 
you  try.     There  is  nothing  like  experiment!" 

And  Lord  Vincent  put  the  pipe  betv/een  his  lips  and  puffed 
away  vigorously.  The  room  was  soon  filled  with  smoke.  That, 
combined  with  the  smell  of  the  beefsteak  and  the  ale,  really 
sickened  Claudia.  She  went  to  the  window,  raised  it  and 
looked  out. 

"You  will  take  cold,"  said  his  lordship. 

"I  would  rather  take  cold  than  breathe  this  air,"  was  her 
reply. 


48  Romance  and  Beauty. 

"Just  as  you  please;  but  I  wouldn't,"  he  said.  And  ht 
shut  down  the  window. 

Amazement  held  Claudia  still  for  a  moment;  she  could 
scarcely  believe  in  such  utter  disregard  of  her  feeling's.  At 
last,  in  a  voice  vibrating  with  ill-suppressed  indignation,  she 
said: 

"My  lord,  the  air  of  this  room  makes  me  ill.  If  you  must 
smoke,  can  you  not  do  so  somewhere  else  ?" 

"Where  ?"  questioned  his  lordship,  taking  the  pipe  from  his 
mouth  for  an  instant. 

"Is  there  not  a  smoking-room,  reading-room,  or  something 
of  the  sort,  for  gentlemen's  accommodation  ?" 

"In  this  place?     Ila-ha-ha!     Well,  there's  the  tap-room!" 

"Then  why  not  go  there?"  inquired  Claudia,  who  had  no 
very  clear  idea  of  what  the  tap-room  really  was. 

Lord  Vincent's  face  flushed  at  what  he  seemed  to  think 
an  intentional  affront. 

"I  can  go  into  the  street,"  he  said. 

And  he  arose  and  put  on  his  great  coat  and  his  cap,  and 
turned  up  the  collar  of  his  coat  and  turned  down  the  fall 
of  his  cap,  so  that  but  little  of  his  face  would  be  seen,  and 
so  walked  out.  Then  Claudia  raised  the  window  to  ventilate 
the  room,  and  rang  the  bell  to  summon  the  waiter. 

"Take  this  service  away  and  send  the  chambermaid  to  me," 
she  said  to  him  when  he  came. 

And  a  few  minutes  after  he  had  cleared  the  table  and  left 
the  room,  the  chambermaid,  accompanied  by  old  Katie,  en- 
tered. 

"Is  there  a  dressing-room  connected  with  this  chamber?" 
Lady  Vincent  inquired. 

"Law!  no,  mum,  there  isn't  such  a  place  in  the  house," 
said  the  chambermaid. 

"This  is  intolerable!  You  may  go;  my  own  servants  will 
wait  on  me." 

The  girl  went  out. 

"Unpack  my  traveling  bag  and  lay  out  my  things,  Katie," 
said  Lady  Vincent,  when  she  was  left  alone  with  her  nurse. 

But  the  old  woman  raised  her  hands,  and  rolled  up  her 
eyes,  exclaiming: 

"Well,  Miss  Claudia,  child! — I  mean  my  ladyship,  ma'am! 
— if  this  is  Inglaud,  I  never  want  to  see  it  again  the  longest 
d?iy  as  ever  I  live !'' 

'■Liverpool  is  not  England,  Katie." 

"Livc-a-pool,  is  it?    More  like  Die-a-pool!"  grumbled  old 
Katie,  as  she  assisted  her  lady  to  change  her  traveling  di'css 
for  a  loose  wrapper. 
/   "Now,  what   have  you  had  to  eat,  my  ladyship  ?" 

"Nothing,  Katie.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  not  eat  anything 
cooked  in  this  ill-looking  house." 


Romance  and  Beauty.  49 

"Notliiujr  to  eat!  I'll  go  right  straight  downstairs  and 
make  you  some  tea  and  toast  myself !"  said  Katie. 

And  she  made  good  her  words  by  bringing  a  delicate  little 
repast,  of  which  Claudia  gratefully  partook. 

And  then  Katie,  with  an  old  nurse's  tenderness,  saw  her 
mistress  comfortably  to  bed,  and  cleared  and  darkened  the 
room  and  left  her  to  repose. 

But  Claudia  could  not  sleep.  Her  thoughts  were  too  busy 
with  the  subject  of  Lord  Vincent's  strange  conduct,  fromthe 
time  that  he  had  at  Niagara  received  those  three  suspicious 
letters  up  to  this  time,  when,  with  his  face  hid,  he  was  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  streets  of  Liverpool. 

That  he  sought  concealment  she  felt  assured  by  many  cir- 
cumstances; his  coming  to  this  obscure  tavern;  his  choosing 
to  take  his  meals  and  smoke  his  pipe  in  his  bed-room;  and 
his  walking  out  with  his  face  muffled — all  of  which  was  in 
direct  antagonism  to  Lord  Vincent's  fastidious  habits; 
finally,  his  taking  a  whole  carriage  in  the  railway  train,  for 
no  other  purpose  than  to  have  himself  and  his  party  entirely 
isolated  from  their  fellow  passengers. 

Lord  Vincent  came  in  early,  and,  thanks  to  the  narcotic 
qualities  of  the  ale,  he  soon  fell  asleep. 

Claudia  had  scarcely  dropped  into  a  doze  before,  at  the 
dismal  hour  of  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  they  were 
roused  up  to  get  ready  for  the  train.  They  made  a  hurried 
toilet,  and  ate  a  hasty  breakfast,  both  by  candle  light,  and 
then  set  out  for  the  station. 

It  was  a  raw,  damp,  foggy  morning.  The  atmosphere 
Beemed  as  dense  and  as  white  as  milk.  No  one  could  see  a 
foot  in  advance.  And  Claudia  wondered  how  the  cabmen 
managed  to  get  along  at  all. 

They  reached  the  station  just  as  the  train  was  about  to 
start,  and  had  barely  time  to  hurry  into  the  carriage  that  had 
been  engaged  for  them  before  the  whistle  shrieked  and  they 
were  off.  Fortunately  Frisbie  had  sent  the  luggage  on  in 
advance,  and  got  it  ticketed. 

The  carriage  had  four  back  and  four  front  seats.  Lord  and 
Lady  Vincent  occupied  two  of  the  back  seats,  and  their  four 
servants  the  front  ones.  As  they  went  on,  the  fog  really 
seemed  to  thicken.  They  traveled  slowly  and  stopped  often. 
And  Claudia,  in  surprise,  remarked  upon  these  facts. 

"One  might  as  well  be  in  a  stage — for  speed,"  she  com- 
plained. 

"It  is  the  parliamentary  train,"  he  replied. 

"I  have  heard  you  say  that  before ;  but  I  do  not  know  what 
you  mean  by  'parliamentary'  as  applied  to  railway  trains." 

"It  is  the  cheap  train,  the  slow  train,  the  people's  train — 
in  fact,  one  that,  in  addition  to  first  and  second-olasa  car- 


50  Romance  and  BeautyT 

riages,  drags  behind  it  an  interminable  length  of  rough  cars» 
in  which  the  lower  orders  travel,"  said  his  lordship. 

"But  why  is  it  called  the  'parliamentary  V  " 

"Because  it  was  instituted  by  act  of  Parliametnt  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  people,  or  perhaps  because  it  is  so 
heavy  and  slow." 

On  they  went,  hour  after  hour,  stopping  every  three  or  four 
miles,  while  the  fog  seemed  still  to  condense  and  whiten. 

At  noon  the  train  reached  York,  and  stopped  twenty  min- 
utes for  refreshment.  Lord  Vincent  did  not  leave  the  car- 
riage, but  sent  his  valet  out  to  the  station  restaurant  to  pro- 
cure what  was  needful  for  his  party.  And  while  the  pas- 
sengers were  all  hurrying  to  and  fro,  and  looking  in  at  the 
carriage,  he  drew  the  curtains  of  his  windows,  and  sat  back 
far  in  his  seat. 

Claudia  would  gladly  have  left  the  train  and  spent  the 
interval  in  contemplating,  even  if  it  were  only  the  outside 
of  the  ancient  cathedral  of  which  she  had  read  and  heard  so 
much. 

Lord  Vincent  assured  her  there  was  no  time  to  lose  in  sight- 
seeing then,  but  promised  that  she  should  visit  York  st  some 
future  period. 

And  the  train  started  again.  They  b<^an  to  leave  the 
fog  behind  them  as  they  approached  the  seacoast.  They  soon 
came  in  sight  of  the  North  Sea  beside  which  the  railway  ran 
for  some  hundred  miles.  Here  all  was  bright  and  clear. 
And  Claudia  for  a  time  forgot  all  the  suspicions  and  anxie- 
ties that  disturbed  her  mind,  and  with  all  a  stranger's  inter- 
est gazed  on  the  grandeur  of  the  scenery  and  dreamed  over 
the  associations  it  awakened. 

Here  "lofty  Seaton-Delaval"  was  pointed  out  to  her.  And 
Tinemouth,  famed  in  song  for  its  "haughty  prioress;"  and 
"Holy  Isle,"  memorable  for  the  inhumation  of  "Constance 
de  Beverly." 

At  sunset  they  crossed  Berwick  Bridge  and  entered  Soot- 
land.  They  stopped  but  a  few  minutes  at  Berwick  and  then 
shot  off  northward,  still  keeping  near  the  coast. 

Claudia  looked  out  upon  the  gray  North  Sea,  and  en- 
joyed the  magnificence  of  the  coast  scenery  as  long  as  the 
daylight  lasted. 

When  it  was  growing  dark  Lord  Vincent  said: 

"You  had  just  as  well  close  that  window,  Claudia !  It  will 
give  us  all  cold;  and  besides,  you  can  see  but  little  now." 

"I  can  see  night  drawing  her  curtain  of  darkness  around 
the  bed  of  the  troubled  waters.  It  is  worth  watching,"  mur- 
mured Claudia,  dreamily. 

"Bosh !"  was  the  elegant  response  of  the  viscount,  "you  will 
see  enough  of  the  North  Soa  before  you  have  done  with  it,  I 
fancy."    And  with  an  emphatic  clap  he  let  down  the  window. 

\ 


Romance  and  Beauty.  51 

Claudia  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  turned  away,  too  proud 
to  dispute  a  point  that  she  was  powerless  to  decide. 

They  sped  on  toward  Edinhoro'  through  the  darkness  of 
one  of  the  darkest  nights  that  ever  fell.  Even  had  the  win- 
dow been  open  Claudia  could  not  have  caught  a  glimpse  of 
the  scenery.  She  had  no  idea  that  they  were  near  the 
capital  of  Scotland  until  the  train  ran  into  the  station.  Then 
all  was  bustle  among  those  who  intended  to  get  out  there. 

But  through  all  the  bustle  Lord  Vincent  and  his  party 
kept  their  seats. 

"I  am  very  weary  of  this  train  I  I  have  not  left  my  seat 
for  many  hours.  Can  we  not  stop  over  night  here  ?  I  should 
like  to  see  Edinboro'  by  daylight !"  Claudia  inquired. 

"What  did  you  say?"  asked  Lord  Vincent,  with  noncha- 
lance. 

Claudia  repeated  her  question,  adding: 

"I  should  like  to  remain  a  day  or  two  in  EdinboTO^.  I 
wish  to  see  the  Castle,  and  Holyi'ood  Palace  and  Abbey,  and 
Eoslyn  and  Craigmiller,  and '' 

"Everything  else,  of  course!  Bother  1  We  have  no  time 
for  that!  I  have  taken  our  tickets  for  Aberdeen,  and  mean 
to  sleep  at  Caetle  Cragg  to-night,"  replied  the    viscount. 

Claudia  turned  away  her  head  to  conceal  the  indignant 
tears  that  arose  to  her  eyes !  She  was  beginning  to  discover 
that  her  comfort,  convenience  and  inclination  were  just  about 
the  last  things  that  her  husband  was  disposed  to  take  into 
consideration.  What  a  dire  reverse  for  her,  whose  will  from 
her  earliest  recollection  had  been  the  law  to  all  around  her! 

The  train  started  again  and  sped  on  its  way  through  the 
darkness  of  the  night  toward  Aberdeen,  whexe  they  arrived 
about  eight  o'clock, 

"Here  at  last  the  railway  journey  ends,  thank  heaven," 
sighed  Claudia,  as  the  train  slackened  its  speed  and  crawled 
into  the  station.  And  the  usual  bustle  attending  its  arrival 
ensued. 

Fortunately  for  Claudia,  the  viscount  found  himself  too 
much  fatigued  after  about  sixteen  hours'  ride  to  go  further 
that  night.  So  he  directed  Mr.  Erisbie  to  engage  two  cabs 
to  take  himself  and  his  party  to  a  hotel. 

And  when  they  were  brought  up  he  handed  Claudia,  who 
was  scarcely  able  to  stand,  in  the  first  one,  and  ordered  Eris- 
bie to  put  the  "gorillas"  into  the  other.  And  they  drove 
to  a  fourth  or  fifth-rate  inn,  a  degree  or  two  dirtier,  dingier 
and  darker  than  the  one  they  had  left  at  Liverpool. 

But  Claudia  was  too  utterly  worn  out  in  body,  mind  and 
spirit  to  find  fault  with  any  shelter  that  promised  to  afford 
her  the  common  necessaries  of  life,  of  which  she  had  been  de- 
prived for  so  many  hours. 

She  drank  the  tea  that  was  brought  her  without  questiou- 
4 


52  Romance  and  Beauty. 

ing-  its  quality.  And  as  soon  as  she  laid  her  head  on  her 
pillow  she  sank  into  the  dreamless  sleep  of  utter  exhaus- 
tion. 

She  awoke  late  the  next  morning  to  take  her  first  look  at 
the  old  town  through  a  driving  rain  that  lashed  the  narrow 
windows  of  her  little  bed-room.  Lord  Vincent  had  already 
risen  and  gone  out. 

She  rang  for  her  servants.  Old  Katie  answered  the  bell, 
entering  with  uplifted  hands  and  eyes,  exclaiming : 

"Well,  my  ladyship !  if  this  ain't  the  outlandishest  country 
as  ever  was!  Coming  over  from  t'other  side,  we  had  the 
ocean  unnerneaf  of  us,  and  now  'pears  to  me  like  we  has  got 
it  overhead  of  us,  by  the  fog  and  mist  and  rain  perpetual! 
And  if  this  is  being  of  lords  and  ladyships,  I'd  a  heap  leifer 
be  misters  and  mist'esses,  myseli." 

"1  quite  agree  with  you,  Katie,"  sighed  Lady  Vincent,  as, 
with  the  old  woman's  assistance,  she  dressed  herself. 

"It  seems  to  me  like  as  if  we  was  regerlerly  sold,  my  lady- 
ship," said  old  Katie,  mysteriously. 

"Hush !  Where  are  we  to  have  breakfast — not  in  this  disor- 
dered room,  I  hope?" 

"No,  my  ladyship.  They  let  us  have  a  little  squeezed-up 
parlor  that  smells  for  all  the  world  as  if  a  lot  of  men  had 
been  smoking  and  drinking  in  it  all  night  long.  My  lord- 
ship's down  there,  waiting  for  his  breakfast  now.  Pretty 
place  to  fetch  a  'spectable  cullored  pusson  to,  let  alone  a  lady ! 
Well,  one  comfort,  we  won't  stay  here  long,  'cause  I  heard  my 
lordship  order  Mr.  Frisbie  to  go  and  take  two  inside  places 
and  four  outside  places  in  the  stage-coach  as  leaves  this 
mornin'  for  Ban.  'Ban,'  'Ban;'  'pears  like  it's  been  all  ban 
and  no  blessin'  ever  since  we  done  lef  Tanglewood." 

Lady  Vincent  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  correct  Katie. 
She  knew  by  experience  that  all  attempts  to  set  her  right 
would  be  lost  labor. 

She  went  downstairs  and  joined  Lord  Vincent  in  the  lit- 
tle parlor,  where  a  breakfast  was  laid  of  which  it  might  be 
said  that  if  the  coffee  was  bad  and  the  bannocks  worse,  the 
kippered  herrings  were  delicious. 

~  After  breakfast  they  took  their  places  in  or  on  tho  Banff 
mail-coach ;  Lord  and  Lady  Vincent  being  the  sole  passengers 
inside;  and  all  their  servants  occupying  the  outside.  And  so 
they  set  out  through  the  drizzling  rain,  and  by  the  old  turn- 
pike road  to  Banff. 

This  road  ran  along  the  edge  of  the  cliffs  overhanging  the 
sea — the  sea,  ever  sublime  and  beautiful,  even  when  dimly 
eeen  through  the  dull  veil  of  a  Scotch  mist. 

Claudia  was  not  permitted  to  open  the  window ;  but  she 
kept  the  glass  poljshed  that  she  might  look  out  upon  the  wild 
eceuery. 


Castle  Cragg.  53 

Late  in  the  afternoon  they  reached  the  town  of  Banff, 
where  they  stopi!>ed  only  long  enough  to  order  a  plain  din- 
ner and  engage  flies  to  take  them  on  to  their  final  destination, 
Castle  Cragg,  which  in  truth  Claudia  was  growing  very 
enxiou3  to  behold. 


OHAPTEK  X. 

CASTLE      CRAGG. 

Immediately  after  dinner  they  set  out  again  on  this  last 
stage  of  their  journey,  Claudia  and  Vincent  riding  in  the  first 
fly  and  Frisbie  and  the  "gorillas"  in  the  second  one.  The 
road  still  lay  along  the  cliffs  above  the  sea.  And  Claudia 
still  sat  and  gazed  through  the  window  of  the  fly  as  she  had 
gazed  through  the  window  of  the  coach,  at  the  wild,  grand, 
awful  scenery  of  the  coast.  Hour  after  hour  they  rode  on 
until  the  afternoon  darkened  into  evening. 

The  last  object  of  interest  that  caught  Claudia's  attention, 
before  night  closed  the  scene,  was  far  in  advance  of  them  up 
the  coast.  It  was  a  great  promontory  stretching  far  out  into 
the  sea,  and  lifting  its  lofty  head  high  into  the  heavens. 
Upon  its  extreme  point  stood  an  ancient  castle,  which  at  that 
height  seemed  bxit  a  crow's  nest  in  size. 

Claudia  called  Lord  Vincent's  attention  to  it. 

"What  castle  is  that,  my  lord,  perched  upon  that  high  pro- 
montory? I  should  think  it  an  interesting  place,  an  his- 
torical place,  built  perhaps  in  ancient  times  as  a  stronghold 
against  Danish  invasion,"  she  said. 

"That?  Oh,  ah,  yes;  that  is  a  trifle  historical,  in  the  rec- 
ord of  a  score  of  sieges,  storms,  assaults,  and  so  on ;  and  a  bit 
traditional,  in  legends  of  some  hundred  capital  crimes  and 
mortal  sins;  and,  in  fact,  altogether,  as  you  say,  rather  in- 
teresting, especially  to  you,  Claudia.  It  is  Castle  Craig,  and 
it  will  have  the  honor  to  be  your  future  residence." 

"Heaven  forbid!"  exclaimed  Claudia,  gazing  now  iu  con- 
Bternation  upon  that  drear,  desolate,  awful  rock. 

"For  a  season  only,  my  dear,  of  course,"  said  the  viscount, 
with  the  queerest  of  smiles,  of  which  Claudia  covild  make 
nothing  satisfactory. 

She  continued  to  look  out,  but  the  longer  she  gazed  upon 
that  awful  cliff  and  the  nearer  she  approached  it  the  more 
appalled  she  became.  She  now  saw,  in  turning  a  winding  of 
the  coast,  that  the  point  of  the  cliff  stretched  much  farther 
out  at  sea  than  had  at  first  appeared,  and  that  only  a  low 
neck  r;f  land  connected  it  with  the  main ;  and  she  knew  that 
when  the  tide  was  high  tliis  promontory  must  be  entirely  cut 
off  from  the  coast  and  become,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 


54  Castle  Cragg. 

an  island.  Approaching  nearer  still,  she  saw  that  the  cliff 
was  but  a  huge,  barren  rock,  of  which  the  castle,  built  and 
walled  in  of  the  same  rock,  seemed  but  an  outgrowth  and  a 
portion. 

If  this  rock-bound,  sea-walled  dwelling-place,  which  had 
evidently  been  built  rather  for  a  fortification  than  for  a  fam- 
ily residence,  struck  terror  to  the  heart  of  Claudia,  what 
effect  must  it  have  had  upon  the  superstitious  mind  of  poor 
old  Katie,  riding  in  the  fly  behind,  when  Mr.  Frisbie  was  so 
good  as  to  point.it  out  to  her  with  the  agreeable  information 
that  it  was  to  be  her  future  home. 

"What,  dat!"  exclaimed  the  old  woman  in  consternation. 
"You  don't  mean  dat!  Well,  lord!  I'se  offen  hearn  tell 
of  de  'Debbil's  Icy  Peak,'  but  I  nebber  expected  to  cotch  my 
eyes  on  it,  much  less  lib  on  it." 

But  the  darkening  night  shut  out  from  their  view  the  awful 
cliff  to  which,  however,  they  were  every  moment  approaching 
nearer. 

Fortunately  as  the  carriages  reached  the  base  of  this  cliff 
the  tide  was  low,  and  they  were  enabled  to  pass  the  neck  of 
land  that  united  the  island  to  the  coast  and  made  it  a  pro- 
montory. 

After  passing  over  this  narrow  strip  they  ascended  the  cliff 
by  a  road  so  steep  that  it  had  been  paved  with  flagstones 
placed  edgeways  to  afford  a  hold  for  the  horses'  hoofs  and  aid 
them  in  climbing.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  all  this  then;  but 
Claudia  knew  from  the  inclined  position  of  the  carriage  how 
steep  was  the  ascent,  and  she  held  her  very  breath  for  fear. 
As  for  old  Katie,  in  the  carriage  behind,  she  went  to  hard 
praying.     - 

A  solitary  light  shone  amid  the  darkness  above  them.  It 
came  from  a  lamp  at  the  top  of  the  castle  gate.  They  reached 
the  suxnmit  of  the  cliff  in  safety,  and  Lady  Vincent  breathed 
freely  again  and  old  Katie's  prayers  changed  to  thanks- 
givings. 

They  crossed  the  draw-bridge  over  the  ancient  moat  and  en- 
tered the  castle  gate.  The  light  above  it  revealed  the  ghastly, 
iron-toothed  portcullis,  that  looked  ready  to  fall  and  impale 
any  audacious  passenger  under  its  impending  fangs.  And 
they  entered  the  old  paved  court-yard  and  crossed  over  to  the 
main  entrance  of  the  castle  hall. 

Here,  at  length,  some  of  the  attendant  honors  of  Lady  Vin- 
cent's new  rank  seemed  ready  to  greet  her. 

The  establishment  had  been  expecting  its  lord  and  had 
heard  the  sound  of  carriages.  The  great  doors  were  thrown 
open;  lights  flashed  out;  liveried  servants  appeared  in  attend- 
ance. 

'Tou  got  my  telegram,  I  perceive,  Cuthbcrt,"  Lord  Vincent 


Castle  Craggf.  55 

said  to  a  large,  red-haired  Scot,  in  plain  citizen's  clothes, 
who  seemed  to  be  the  porter. 

"Yes,  me  laird,  though,  as  ye  ken,  the  chiels  at  yon  office 
at  Banff  hae  to  send  it  by  a  special  messenger — sae,  it  took 
a  long  time  to  win  here." 

"AU  right,  Cuthbert,  since  you  received  it  in  time  to  be 
ready  for  us.  Light  us  into  the  green  parlor,  and  send  the 
housekeeper  here  to  attend  Lady  Vincent." 

"Yes,  me  laird,"  answered  the  man,  bowing  low  before  he 
led  the  way  into  a  room  so  elegantly  furnished  as  to  afiord  a 
pleasant  surprise  to  Claudia,  who  certainly  did  not  expect  to 
find  anything  so  bright  and  new  in  this  dark,  old  castle. 

Here  she  was  presently  joined  by  a  tall,  spare,  respectable- 
looking  old  woman  in  a  black  linsey  dress,  white  apron  and 
neck  shawl  and  high-crowned  Scotch  cap. 

"How  do  you  do,  dame?  You  will  show  Lady  Vincent  to 
her  apartments  and  wait  her  orders." 

her  breath ;  then,  turning  to  Claudia,  with  a  curtsy,  she  said : 
her  breath ;  then,  turning  to  Claudia,  with  a  curtsey,  she  said : 

"I  am  ready  to  attend  your  leddyship." 

Claudia  arose  and  followed  her  through  the  vast  hall  and 
up  the  lofty  staircase  to  another  great,  square,  stone  hall, 
whose  four  walls  were  regularly  indented  by  lines  of  doors 
leading  into  the  bed-chambers  and  dressing-rooms. 

And  as  Claudia  looked  upon  this  array  her  first  thought 
was  that  a  stranger  might  easily  get  confused  among  them 
and  open  the  wrong  door.  And  that  it  would  be  well  to  have 
them  numbered,  as  at  hotels,  to  prevent  mistakes. 

The  old  housekeeper  opened  one  of  the  doors  and  admitted 
her  mistress  into  a  beautifully  furnished  and  decorated  suite 
of  apartments,  which  consisted  of  boudoir,  bed-room  and 
dressing-room  opening  into  each  other,  so  that  as  Claudia 
entered  the  first  she  had  the  vista  of  the  three  before  her 
eyes.  The  floors  were  covered  with  Turkey  carpets  so  soft 
and  deep  in  texture  that  they  yielded  like  turf  under  the 
tread.  And  the  heavy  fiirniture  was  of  black  walnut,  and  tha 
draperies  were  all  of  golden-brown  satin-damask,  and  richly 
embroidered  lace.  The  effect  of  the  whole  was  warro,  rich, 
glowing  and  comfortable. 

Claudia  looked  around  herself  with  approbation ;  her  spirits 
rose;  she  felt  reconciled  to  the  rugged  old  fortress  that  con- 
tained such  splendors  within  its  walls;  for  who  would  care 
how  rough  the  casket,  so  that  the  jewels  it  held  were  of  the 
finest  water  ?     Her  plans  "soared  up  again  like  fire  1" 

She  passed  through  the  whole  suite  of  rooms  to  the  dress- 
ing-room, which  was  the  last  in  succession,  and  seated  herself 
in  an  sasy-chair  beside  a  bright  cfoal-fire. 

"The  dinner  will  be  served  in  an  hour,  m©  leddy.    Will  I 


56 


Faustina. 


bring  your  leddyship  a  cup  of  tea  before  you  begin  to  dress  ?'* 
inquired  the  housekeeper. 

"If  you  please,  you  may  send  it  to  me  by  one  of  my  own 
women.  You  are  too  aged  to  walk  up  and  down  stairs,"  re- 
plied Claudia,  kindly. 

"Hech  sirs !  I'm  e'en  reddy  to  haud  me  ain  wi'  any  lassie 
i'  the  house,"  said  the  dame,  nodding  her  tall,  flapping  white 
cap. 

"Will  you  tell  me  your  name,  that  I  may  know  in  future 
what  to  call  you  ?"  Claudia  asked. 

"It's  'en  just  Mistress  Murdock,  at  your  leddyship's  bid- 
ding.    And  now  I'll  gae  bring  the  tea." 

"Send  my  servant  Katie  to  me  at  the  same  time,"  said  Lady 
Vincent,  who,  when  she  was  left  alone,  turned  again  to  view 
the  magnificence  that  surrounded  her. 

"If  I  spend  any  time  on  this  bleak  coast,  I  shall  take  care 
to  fill  the  castle  halls  and  chambers  with  gay  company,"  she 
said  to  herself. 

The  housekeeper  entered  with  an  elegant  little  tea  service 
of  gold  plate,  and  set  it  on  a  stand  of  mosaic  work,  by  Clau- 
dia's side. 

While  she  was  drinking  her  tea  Katie  entered,  smiling 
with  both  her  eyes  and  all  her  teeth, 

"Well,  my  ladyship,  ma'am,  this  looks  like  life  at  last; 
don't  it,  though?" 

"I  think  so,  Katie,"  said  her  mistress,  sipping  her  aromatic 
"oolong."  "Now,  Katie,  unpack  my  maize-colored  moire- 
antique  !     I  must  dress  for  dinner." 

Of  course  Claudin  expected  to  meet  no  one  at  dinner  ex- 
cept the  disagreeable  companion  of  her  journey;  but  Claudia 
would  have  made  an  elaborate  evening  toilet  had  there  been 
no  one  but  herself  to  admire  it. 

So  she  arrayed  herself  with  very  great  splendor  and  went 
downstairs. 

In  the  lower  hall  she  found  the  porter  and  several  footmen. 

"Show  me  into  the  drawing-room,"  she  said  to  the  former. 

Old  Cuthbert  bowed  and  walked  before  her,  and  threw  open 
a  pair  of  folding-doors  leading  into  the  grand  saloon  of  the 
castle.    And  Claudia  entered. 


CHAPTER  XL 

FAUSTINA. 

It  was  a  saloon  of  magnificent  proportions  and  splendid 
decoration.  And  Claudia  was  sailing  across  it  with  majestic 
gait,  in  the  full  consciousness  of  being  the  Viscountess  Vin- 
cent and  Lady  of  the  Castle,  when  suddenly  her  eyes  fell  upoa 


Faustina.  57 

an  uDJect  that  arrested  her  footsteps,  while  sue  gazed  in  ut- 
ter amazement. 

One  of  the  most  transcendently  beautiful  women  that  she 
had  ever  beheld  lay  reclining  in  the  most  graceful  and  allur- 
ing attitude  upon  a  low  divan.  Her  luxuriant  form,  arrayed 
in  rich,  soft,  white  moire-antique  and  lace,  was  thrown  into 
harmonious  relief  by  the  crimson  velvet  cover  of  the  divan. 
She  was  asleep,  or  perhaps  affecting  to  be  so.  One  fine, 
round,  brown  arm,  with  its  elbow  deep  in  the  downy  pilow, 
rose  from  its  falling  sleeve  of  silk  and  lace,  and  with  its 
jeweled  hand,  buried  in  masses  of  glittering,  purplish  black 
ringlets,  supported  a  head  that  Reubens  would  have  loved  to 
paint.  Those  rich  ringlets  flowing  down,  half  veiled  the 
rounded  arm  and  full  curved  neck  and  bosom  that  were  other- 
wise too  bare  for  delicacy.  The  features  were  formed  in  the 
most  perfect  mould  of  Oriental  beauty;  the  forehead  was 
broad  and  low ;  the  nose  fine  and  straight ;  the  lips  plump  and 
full,  and  the  chin  small  and  rounded.  The  eyebrows  were 
black,  arched  and  tapering  at  the  points;  the  eyelashes  were 
black,  long  and  drooping  over  half-c'icsed,  almond-shaped 
dark  eyes  that  seemed  floating  in  liquid  fire.  The  complexion 
was  of  the  richest  brown,  ripening  into  the  most  brilliant 
crimson  in  the  oval  cheeks  and  dewy  lips  that,  falling  half 
open,  revealed  the  little  glistening  white  teeth  within.  While 
one  jeweled  hand  supported  her  beautiful  head,  the  other 
drooped  over  her  reclining  form,  holding  negligently,  almost 
unconsciously,  between  thumb  and  finger,  an  odorous  tea- 
rose. 

Claudia  herself  was  a  brilliant  brunette,  but  here  was  an- 
other brunette  who  eclipsed  her  in  her  own  splendid  style  of 
beauty  as  an  astral  lamp  outshines  a  candle.  Cleopatra, 
Thais,  Aspasia,  or  any  other  world-renowned  siren,  who  had 
governed  kingdoms,  through  kings'  passions,  might  have 
been  just  such  a  woman  as  this  sleeping  Venus. 

Doubting  really  whether  she  slept  or  not,  Claudia  ap- 
proached and  looked  over  her;  and  the  longer  she  looked, 
the  more  she  wondered  at,  admired,  and  instinctively  hated 
this  woman. 

Who  was  she  ?     What  was  she  ?     How  came  she  there  ? 

So  absorbed  was  Claudia  in  these  questions,  while  gazing 
at  the  beautiful  and  unconscious  subject  of  them,  that  she 
did  not  perceive  the  approach  of  Lord  Vincent  until  he  ac- 
tually stood  at  her  side. 

Then  she  looked  up  at  him  inquiringly,  and  pointed  at  the 
Bleeping  beauty. 

But,  instead  of  replying  to  her,  he  bent  over  the  sleeper  and 
whispered : 

"Faustina  !" 

J^ow,  wJ»etli@r  ih©  were  really  sleeping  or  shamming,  the 


58 


Faustina. 


awakening,  real  or  pretended,  was  beautiful.  The  drooping, 
black-fringed  eyelids  slowly  lifted  themselves  from  the  eyes — • 
two  large,  black  orbs  of  soft  fire ;  and  the  plump,  crimson  lips 
opeijed  and  dropped  two  liquid  notes  of  perfect  music — the 
syllables  of  his  baptismal  name; 

"IL^LCOLM  !" 

"Faustina,  you  are  di'eamiug!  Awaken!  remember 
where  you  are,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

She  slowly  raised  herself  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  looked 
around ;  every  movement  of  hers  was  perfect  grace. 

"Lady  Vincent,  this  is  Mrs.  Dugald,"  said  the  viscount. 

Claudia  drew  back  a  step,  and  bent  her  head  with  an  air  of 
the  most  freezing  hauteur. 

Mrs.  Dugald  also  bent  hers,  but  immediately  threw  it  up 
and  shook  it  back  with  a  smile. 

So  graceful  was  this  motion  that  it  can  be  compared  to 
nothing  but  the  bend  and  rebound  of  a  lily. 

But  when  Claiidia  looked  up  she  detected  a  strange  glance 
of  intelligence  between  her  two  companions.  The  beauty's 
eyes  flashed  from  their  sheath  of  softness,  and  gleamed  forth 
upon  the  man — two  living  stilettoes  pointed  with  death. 

His  look  expressed  annoyance  and  fear. 

He  turned  away,  and  touched  the  bell. 

"Let  dinner  be  served  immediately,"  he  said  to  the  serv- 
ant who  answered  the  summons. 

"Dinner  is  served,  my  lord,"  answered  the  man,  pushing 
aside  the  sliding-doors  opening  into  the  dining-room. 

Lord  Vincent  waved  his  hand  to  Lady  Vincent  to  precede 
them,  and  then  gave  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Dugald  to  follow  her. 

But  when  they  reached  the  dining-room  Mrs.  Dugald  left 
his  arm,  advanced  to  the  head  of  the  table,  and  stood  with 
her  hand  upon  the  back  of  the  chair  and  her  gaze  upon  the 
face  of  the  viscount. 

''No;  Lady  Vincent  will  take  the  head  of  the  table,"  said 
his  lordship,  giving  his  hand  to  Claudia  and  installing  her. 

"As  you  will!  but  Svhere  tlie  McDonald  sits,  there  is  the 
head  of  the  table,' "  said  Mrs.  Dugald,  quoting  the  haughty 
words  of  the  Lord  of  the  Isles,  as  she  gave  way  and  subsided 
into  a  side  seat. 

Lord  Vincent,  with  a  lowering  brow,  sat  down. 

Old  Cuthbert,  who  sometimes  officiated  as  butler,  placed 
himself  behind  his  lord's  chair,  and  two  footmen  waited  oa 
the  table. 

The  dinner  was  splendid  in  its  service,  and  luxurious  in  its 
viands;  but  most  uncomfortable  in  its  company,  and  it  sug- 
gested the  Scripture  proverb:  "Better  is  a  dinner  of  herbs 
where  love  is  than  a  stalled  ox  and  hatred  therewith." 

Claudia,  for  one,  was  glad  when  it  was  over,  and  they  were 
permitted  to  return  to  the  saloon,  where  coffee  awaited  them. 


Faustina.  59 

"Mrs.  Dugald,  will  you  give  me  some  music?"  said  Lord 
[Vincent,  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 

The  beauty  arose,  and  floated  away  in  her  soft,  swimming 
gait  toward  the  piano. 

Lord  Vincent  went  after  her  and  opened  the  instrument; 
and  when  she  sat  down  he  stood  behind  her  chair  to  turn 
over  the  music. 

She  played  a  brilliant  prelude,  and  then  commenced  sing- 
ing. 

Claudia,  who,  at  the  proposition  that  Mrs.  Dugald  should 
give  Lord  Vincent  "some  music,"  had  shrugged  her  shoul- 
ders and  turned  her  back,  was  now  startled.  She  turned 
around — listened.  Claudia  was  a  most  fastidious  connois- 
seur of  music,  and  she  recognized  in  this  performer  an  artiste 
of  the  highest  order.  Claudia  had  heard  such  music  as  this 
only  from  the  best  opera  singers — certainly  from  no  unpro- 
fessional performer. 

After  executing  a  few  brilliant  pieces,  the  beautiful  mu- 
sician arose  with  a  weary  air,  and,  saying  that  she  was  tired, 
courtseyed,  smiled,  and  withdrew  from  the  room. 

Lord  Vincent  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  floor. 

"Who  is  Mrs.  Dugald  ?"  inquired  Claudia,  coldly. 

"Mrs.  Dugald  is — Mrs.  Dugald,"  replied  his  lordship,  af- 
fecting a  light  tone. 

"That  is  no  answer,  my  lord.'  ' 

"Well,  my  lady,  she  is  a  relation  of  mine.  Will  that  do 
for  an  answer?" 

"What  sort  of  a  relation?" 

"A  very  near  one." 

<'Hownear?" 

'•'She  is  my — sister!"  smiled  Lord  Vincent. 

"Tour  sister  ?  I  laiow  that  you  have  only  two  sisters,  and 
they  are  styled  'ladies' — Lady  Eda  and  Lady  Clementina 
Dugald.  This  is  a  'Mrs.'  She  cannot  be  your  sister,  and 
not  even  your  sister-in-law,  since  you  have  no  brother." 

The  viscount  coolly  lighted  his  cigar  and  walked  out  of  the 
room. 

Claudia  remained  sitting  where  he  had  left  her,  deeply 
perplexed  in  mind.  Then,  feeling  too  restless  to  sit  still,  she 
arose  and  began  to  walk  about  the  room  and  examine  its  ob- 
jects of  interest — its  pictures,  statues,  vases,  et  cetera. 

She  then  went  to  the  wind?)ws;  the  shutters  were  closed, 
the  blinds  down  and  the  curtains  drawn,  so  that  she  could  not 
look  out  into  the  night ;  but  she  could  hear  the  thunder  of  the 
sea  as  it  broke  upon  the  rock  on  which  the  castle  was  founded. 

Tired  of  that,  she  went  to  the  music-stand,  near  the  piano, 
and  began  to  turn  over  the  music-books. 

She  picked  up  the  one  from  which  Mrs.  Dugald  had  been 
pinging.    In  turning  it  over  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  picture  of 


6o  The  Plot  Against  Claudia. 

a  full-length  form  engraved  upon  the  cover.     She  looked  dt 
it  more  closely.     It  was  the  portrait  of  the  woman  who  had 
been  introduced  to  her  as  Mrs,  Dugald.    But  it  bore  the 
name: 
La  Faustina  as  Norma. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE    PLOT    AGAINST    CLAUDIA. 

Indignation  rooted  Claudia  to  the  spot. 

Instinct  had  already  warned  her  that  she  was  insulted  aiid 
degraded  by  the  presence  of  this  strange  woman  in  the  house, 
and  reason  now  confirmed  instinct. 

Claudia  was  entirely  too  self-willed  and  high-spirited  to 
submit  to  either  insult  or  degradation. 

She  instantly  resolved  to  demand  of  Lord  Vincent  the  im- 
mediate dismissal  of  this  woman,  and  to  keep  her  own  rooms 
until  her  demand  was  complied  with.  With  this  resolution 
she  withdrew  from  the  drawing-room,  and  went  upstairs  to 
seek  her  own  apartment. 

Here  the  very  accident  happened  that  we  mentioned  as  be- 
ing so  likely  to  happen  to  any  new-comer  to  the  castle. 

As  she  reached  the  great  hall  on  the  second  floor  she  looked 
arouna  upon  the  many  doors  that  opened  from  its  four  walla 
into  the  many  suites  of  apartments  that  radiated  from  it, 
as  from  the  common  centre,  to  the  outer  walls  of  the  castle- 
keep. 

But  which  was  her  own  door  she  was  puzzled  for  a  moment 
to  decide. 

The  chandelier  that  hung  from  the  ceiling  gave  but  a  sub- 
dued light  that  helped  her  but  little. 

At  last  she  thought  she  had  found  her  own  door ;  she  judged 
it  to  be  her  own  because  it  was  partly  open  and  she  saw, 
through  the  vista  of  the  three  rooms,  the  little  coal-fire  that 
burned  dimly  in  the  last  one. 

So  she  silently  crossed  the  hall,  walking  on  the  soft,  deep 
drugget,  into  which  her  footsteps  sank  noiselessly,  and  she 
entered  what  she  supposed  to  be  her  own  boudoir. 

The  room  was  dark,  except  from  the  gleam  of  light  that 
stole  in  from  the  chandelier  in  the  hall,  and  the  dull  glow 
of  the  coal-fire  that  might  be  dimly  seen  in  the  distant  dress- 
jng-roora,  at  the  end  of  the  suite. 

Claudia,  however,  had  no  sooner  entered  the  room  and 
looked  around  than  she  discovered  that  it  was  not  hers.  This 
suite  of  apartments  was  arranged  upon  the  sarae  plan  as  hei 
own — first  the  boudoir,  then  the  bed-chamber,  and  last  thb 
dressing-room  with  the  little  coal-fire;  but — ih»  hangings 


The  Plot  Against  Claudia.  6i 

.cere  different:  for,  where  hers  had  been  golden  brown,  these 
were  rosy  red. 

And  she  was  about  to  retire  and  close  the  door  softly,  when 
the  sound  of  voices  in  the  adjoining  room  arrested  her  steps. 

The  first  that  spoke  was  the  voice  of  Faustina,  in  tones  of 
passionate  grief  and  remonstrance.    She  was  saying: 

"But  to  bring  her  here!  here,  of  all  the  places  in  the  world  I 
here,  under  my  own  very  eyes!     Ah!" 

"My  angel,  I  had  a  design  in  bringing  her  here,  a  design  in 
which  your  future  honor  and  happiness  is  involved!"  said 
the  voice  of  Lord  Vincent,  in  such  tones  of  persuasive  tender- 
ness as  he  had  never  used  in  speaking  to  his  betrayed  and 
miserable  wife. 

"My  honor  and  happiness!  Ah!^'  cried  the  woman,  with  a 
half-suppressed  shriek. 

"Faustina,  my  beloved,  listen  to  me!"  entreated  the  vis- 
count. 

"Do  not  love  her!  Do  not,  Malcolm!  If  you  do,  I  warn 
you  that  I  shall  kill  her !"  wildly  exclaimed  the  woman. 

"My  angel,  I  love  only  you!    How  can  you  doubt  it?" 

"How  can  I  doubt  it  ?  Because  you  have  deceived  me !  not 
once!  nor  twice!  nor  thrice!  but  always  and  in  everything, 
from  first  to  last!" 

"Deceived  you!  Faustina!  How  can  you  say  so?  In 
what  have  I  ever  deceived  you?  Not  in  vowing  that  I  love 
you;  for  I  do!  You  must  know  it!  How,  then,  have  I  de- 
ceived you?" 

"You  promised  to  make  me  your  viscountess !" 

"And  I  will  do  so!    I  swear  it  to  you,  Faustina!" 

"Ah!  you  have  sworn  so  many  oaths  to  me!" 

"I  will  keep  them  all!  trust  me!  I  would  die  for  you, 
would  go  to  perdition  for  you,  Faustina!" 

"You  will  keep  all  your  oaths  to  me,  you  say !" 

"All  of  them,  Faustina !" 

"One  of  them  is  that  you  will  make  me  your  viscountess !" 

"Yes,  and  I  will  do  it,  my  angel!  Who  but  yourself 
should  dare  rank  with  me  ?  I  will  make  you  my  viscountess, 
Faustina !" 

"How  can  you  do  that,  even  if  you  wished  to  do  so  ?  She 
is  your  viscountess!" 

"Yes,  for  a  little  while!  and  for  a  little  while  only!  Until 
she  has  served  the  purpose  for  which  I  married  her!  and  no 
longer!"  said  the  viscount. 

"Ah!  what  do  you  mean?"     There  was  breathless  eager- 
ness and  ruthless  cruelty  in  the  tone  and  manner  in  which 
the  woman  put  this  question. 
,  The  viscount  did  not  immediately  reply. 

And  Claudia,  her  blood  curdling  with  horror  at  what 
8«9med  plainly  a  design  against  her  life,  left  her  position 


6a  Tlie  Plot  Against  Claudia. 

near  tLe  door  of  the  boudoir  and  concealed  herself  behind  tKe 
crimson  satin  hangings,  feeling  fully  justified  in  becoming 
an  eavesdropper  upon  conversation  that  concerned  her  safety. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  again  whispered  the  woman,  with 
restrained  vehemence. 

"'Be  innocent  of  the  knowledge,  dearest  chuck,  till  you 
approve  the  deed,' "  quoted  Lord  Vincent. 

"But  trust  me ;  I  am  ready  to  aid  you  in  the  deed,  and  to 
share  with  you  the  danger  it  must  bring!  for  I  love  you, 
Malcolm!  I  love  you!  Confide  in  me!  Tell  me  what  you 
mean !"  she  whispered^  in  low,  deep,  vehement  tones. 

"I  mean — not  what  you  imagine,  Faustina!  Turn  your 
face  away!  Those  eyes  of  yours  make  my  blood  run  cold! 
No !  We  English  are  not  quite  so  ready  with  bowl  and  dag- 
ger as  you  Italians  seem  to  be!  We  like  to  keep  within 
boimds !" 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  then !" 

"No,  you  do  not.  And  you  will  not  understand  me  any 
better  when  I  say  to  you  that  I  shall  get  rid  of  my  Indian 
Princes,  not  by  hreahing  the  law,  but  by  appealing  to  the 
law!" 

"No;  it  is  true;  I  do  not  understand  you.    You  seem  to  be 

playing  with  me!" 

"Listen,  then,  you  bewitching  sprite !  You  reproached  me 
just  now  with  bringing  her  here,  here,  under  your  very  eyes, 
you  said.  Faustina !  I  .brought  her  here,  to  this  remote 
place,  that  she  might  be  the  more  completely  in  my  power; 
that  I  might,  at  leisure  and  in  safety,  mature  my  plans  for 
getting  entirely  rid  of  her!" 

"But,  Malcolm!  Why  did  you  marry  her  at  all!  Ah!  I 
fear!  I  fear!  it  was  after  all  a  real  passion,  though  a  tran- 
sient one,  that  moved  you !" 

"No!  I  swear  to  you  it  was  not!  I  have  never  loved 
woman  but  you!" 

"But  why,  then,  did  you  marry  her?" 

"My  angel,  I  told  you  why.  You  should  have  believed  me  I 
My  marriage  was  a  financial  necessity !  The  earl,  my  father, 
chose  to  take  umbrage  at  what  he  called  my  disreputable " 

"Bah!"  oxelaimcfl  the  woman,  in  contempt. 

"Weil,  let  the  phrase  pass.  The  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux 
chose  to  take  offense  at  ray  friendship  with  your  lovely  self. 
And  he — did  not  threaten  to  stop  my  allowance  unless  I 
would  break  with  you;  but  he  actually  and  promptly  did  stop 
it  until  I  should  do  so !" 

"Beast!" 

"Certainly;  but  what  was  to  be  done?  I  had  no  income; 
nothing  to  support  myself,  mi^ch  loss  you,  with  your  elegant 
tastes  I" 


The  Plot  Against  Claudia.  65 

"I  could  have  gone  on  the  boards  again!  I  did  not  love 
you  for  your  money ;  you  know  it,  Malcolm." 

"I  do  know  it,  my  angel!  and  in  that  respect,  as  in  all 
others,  you  were  immeasurably  above  your  fancied  rival,  who 
certainly  loved  me  only  for  my  rank !" 

"But  why  did  you  not  rather  let  me  return  to  the  boards  ?" 

"Where  your  beauty  brought  you  so  many  admirers  and  me 
80  many  rivals?" 

"But  I  preferred  you  to  them  all!'' 

"I  know  it,  Faustina !" 

"Why,  then,  not  let  me  go?" 

"I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  it,  my  precious  treasure! 
I  preferred  to  sacrifice  myself !  The  opportunity  occurred  in 
this  way.  You  know  that  I  left  England  as  the  bearer  of 
dispatches  to  our  Minister  in  the  United  States  ?" 

"Yes." 

"The  very  day  after  I  reached  Washington  I  met  at  the 
evening  reception  at  the  President's  house  this  Indian  Prin- 
cess, as  she  was  called.  I  was  no  sooner  presented  to  her 
than  she  began  to  exercise  all  her  arts  of  fascination  upon 
me.  But  my  heart  was  steeled  by  its  love  for  you  against 
the  charms  of  all  others." 

"Ah!  don't  stop  to  pay  compliments;  go  on." 

"Well,  but  I  was  good-natured,  and  I  flattered  her  vanity 
by  flirting  with  her  a  little." 

"A  little!"  repeated  the  woman,  curling  her  beautiful  lip. 

"Yes ;  only  a  little !  for  I  had  no  idea  of  seriously  address- 
ing her  until  I  discovei*ed  that  she  possessed  in  her  own  right 
one  of  the  largest  fortunes  in  the — world,  I  was  going  to  say ! 
-—and  I  should  not  have  been  far  wrong,  for  she  had,  in  fact, 
inherited  three  immense  fortunes.  This  was  the  way  of  it. 
Her  mother  was  the  only  child  of  a  millionaire,  and,  of  course, 
inherited  the  whole  of  her  father's  estate.  She  had  also  two 
bachelor  uncles  who  had  made  immense  fortunes  in  trade, 
and  who  left  the  whole  to  their  niece,  in  her  own  right.  She, 
dying  young,  bequeathed  the  whole  unconditionally  to  her 
daughter." 

"Giel!  what  good  luck!    How  much  is  it  all  put  together?" 

"About  three  millions  of  pounds  sterling  ?" 

"Ma  foi!    In  what  does  it  consist?" 
_  "It  did  consist  in  bank  stock,  railway  shares,  lead  mines, 
city  houses,  iron  foundries,  tobacco  plantations,  country  seats, 
gorillas,  etc.     It  now  consists  in  money." 

"But  what  good,  if  you  get  rid  of  her,  will  it  do  you?  Is 
it  not  settled  on  the  lady?" 

"No!  I  took  very  good  care  of  that!  When  I  saw  that 
ehe  was  doing  all  she  could  to  entrap— not  me,  for,  for  me  she 
did  not  care,  but — a  title,  I  humored  her  by  falling  ii)to  the 
Bnare !     I  addressed  her.     We  were  engaged.     Then  her  gov- 


64  The  Plot  Against  Claudia. 

ernor  talked  of  settlements!  I  took  a  high  tone,  and  ex- 
pressed astonishment  and  disgust  that  any  lady  who  was 
afraid  to  trust  me  with  her  money  should  be  so  willing  to 
confide  to  me  the  custody  of  her  person!  And  the  negotia- 
tions might  have  come  to  an  end  then  and  there,  had  not  the 
lady  herself  intervened  and  scornfully  waived  the  question  of 
settlements.  She  had  always  ruled  her  father  and  every  one 
else  around  her  in  every  particular,  and  she  ruled  in  this  mat- 
ter also!  The  fact  is  that  she  was  determined  to  be  a  vis- 
countess at  any  price,  and  she  is  one — for  a  little  while!" 

"What  a  fool!" 

"Yes !  she  was  a  poor  gambler !  for  it  was  a  game  between 
us!  She  was  playing  for  a  title,  I  for  a  fortune;  well,  she 
won  the  title  and  I  won  the  fortune!  Or,  rather,  you  may 
call  it  purchase  and  sale !  She  bought  a  title  and  paid  a  for- 
tune for  it !  For  the  moment  the  marriage-ring  encircled  her 
finger  she  became  the  Viscountess  Vincent  and  I  became  the 
possessor  of  her  three  millions  of  pounds  sterling !" 

"Ah!  that  marriage-ring!  There  is  another  broken  oath! 
You  swore  to  me,  once,  that  no  living  woman  should  ever 
wear  a  marriage-ring  of  your  putting  on,  except  myself!" 
complained  Faustina. 

"And  I  have  kept  that  oath,  my  angel!  If  ever  you  see 
Lady  Vincent  without  her  gloves,  look  on  the  third  finger 
of  her  left  hand  and  see  if  there  is  any  wedding-ring  to  be 
found  there." 

"But  you  yourself,  just  now,  spoke  of  the  ring  on  her  finger, 
saying  that  as  soon  as  it  was  placed  there  you  became  the 
possessor  of  her  three  millions  of  pounds  sterling." 

"I  will  explain!  Listen!  I  remembered  my  vow  to  you! 
I  got  the  ring,  purposely,  too  large  for  her  finger;  conse- 
quently, soon  after  it  was  placed  on  her  finger  it  dropped  off 
and  rolled  away!  When  the  ceremony  was  over  the  gentle- 
men searched  for  it.  I  found  it  and  concealed  it.  She  never 
saw  it  again.     Here  it  is !     I  give  it  to  you !" 

Claudia  from  her  hiding-place  stooped  forward  until  she 
got  a  glimpse  of  the  two  traitors. 

She  saw  the  viscount  open  his  pocket-book  and  take  from 
an  inner  compartment  her  own  wedding-ring,  and  place  it 
upon  the  finger  of  his  companion,  saying : 

"There,  my  angel,  wear  it !  it  will  fit  your  fat  finger,  though 
it  was  too  large  for  her  slender  one." 

"What  will  she  say  when  she-  sees  it  V  inquired  the  woman, 
contemplating  the  golden  circle  with  a  triumphant  smile. 

"She  will  not  recognize  it.  Most  wedding-rings  are  alike. 
This  one  has  no  mark  to  distinguish  it  from  other  wedding- 
rings." 

"And  so  I  have  got  it  1"  aaid  the  woman,  clapping  her  hands 
gleefully. 


Tlie  Plot  Against  Claudia.  65 

"Yes,  my  sweet,  and  you  shall  have  everything  else;  the 
three  millions  of  pounds  sterling  and  the  title  of  viscountess 
included !" 

"Ah  I  but  how  got  you  all  the  fortune  in  money  so  easily  ?" 

"I  sold  everything,  bank  stock,  railway  shares,  city  houses, 
tobacco  plantations,  lead  mines,  foundries,  gorillas  and  alll 
And  I  have  transferred  the  whole  in  simple  cash  to  this  coun- 
try" 

"And  it  is  three  millions  ?" 

"Three  millions." 

"Cielt  Now,  then,  I  can  have  my  villa  at  Torquay,  and 
my  yacht,  and  my " 

"You  can  have  everything  you  want  now,  and  the  rank  end 
position  of  viscountess  as  soon  as  I  can  get  rid  of  her." 

"Ah,  yes  I  but  when  will  that  be  ?" 

"Very,  very  soon,  I  hope !  Just  as  soon  as  I  can  mature  my 
plans !" 

"But  what  are  they?" 

"Scarcely  to  be  breathed  even  here!  The  very  walls  have 
ears,  you  know  1" 

"Tell  me !  What  does  the  earl  think  of  this  Marriage  of 
yours  ?" 

"So,  so;  he  wrote  me  a  cool  letter,  saying  that  he  would 
have  preferred  that  I  should  have  married  an  English  woman 
of  my  own  rank;  but  that  since  the  lady  was  of  respectable 
family  and  large  fortune,  he  should  welcome  her  as  a  daugh- 
ter. A.nd,  finally,  that  any  sort  of  a  decent  marriage  waa 
better  than — but  let  that  pass!" 

"Yes,  let  it  pass.    Beast !" 

"Never  mind,  my  angel.     Your  turn  will  come." 

"Ah!  surely,  yes.  But  is  he  not  expecting  to  welcome  his 
wealthy  daughter-in-law  ?" 

"Not  yet.  No,  we  have  come  over  a  full  month  before  we 
were  looked  for.  The  earl  is  traveling  on  the  Continent. 
His  daughter-in-law  will  be  disposed  of  before  he  returns  to 
England." 

"Ha,  ha,  good  1  But  is  not  miladie  amusing  herself  with 
the  anticipation  of  being  introduced  to  her  noble  father-in- 
law?" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  yes!  You  would  have  been  diverted,  'Tiua^ 
if  you  could  have  heard  her  talk  of  her  plans  when  coming 
over.     Ah!  but  that  was  good.     I  laughed  in  my  sleeve." 

"Tell  me !  tell  me !  and  I  will  laugh  now." 

"Well,  she  expected  to  land  on  the  shores  of  England  like 
any  royal  bride;  to  find  the  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux  waiting 
to  welcome  her ;  to  be  introduced  to  my  family,  to  be  pre- 
sented to  Her  Majesty;  to  be  feted  by  the  nobility,  lionized 
by  the  gentry;  and  idolized  by  our  own  tenantry!  In  short, 
she  dreamed  of  a  grand,  royal  progress  through  England,  of 


66  The  Plot  Against  Claudia. 

which  every  stag©  was  to  be  a  glorious  triumph!     Ha,  ha, 
ha!" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  echoed  Faustina. 

"But  instead  of  entering  England  like  a  royal  bride  she 
was  smuggled  into  England  like  a  transported  felon,  who  had 
returned  before  her  time  of  penal  service  in  the  colonies  had 
expired!  Instead  of  a  triumphal  entry  and  progress  along 
the  highways,  she  was  dragged  ignominiously  through  the 
byways!  Instead  of  halting  at  the  palatial  'Adelphia,'  we 
halted  at  the  obscure  'Crown  and  Mitre !' " 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  Good!  that  was  very  good!  But  why  did 
you  do  this?  Not  that  I  care  for  her!  I  care  not!  But  my 
curiosit>'!  And  it  must  have  inconvenienced  you,  this 
squalor !" 

"Well,  it  did.  Biit  I  was  resolved  she  should  meet  no  coun- 
trymen; form  no  acquaintances;  contract  no  friendships; 
in  fine,  have  no  party  here  in  England.  The  'Adelphia'  was 
full  of  American  travelers;  the  'Queen's'  was  full  of  my 
friends!  In  either  she  would  have  got  into  some  social  cir- 
cles that*  might  have  proved  detrimental  to  my  purposes.  As 
it  was  managed  by  me,  no  one,  except  the  passengeis  that 
came  over  with  us,  and  dispersed  from  Liverpool  all  over  the 
Continent,  knew  anything  about  her  arrival.  At  the  'Crown 
and  ]\Iitre'  she  was  half  a  mile  in  distance  and  half  a  thou- 
sand miles  in  degree  from  any  one  connected  with  our  circle. 
No  one,  therefore,  knows  her  whereabouts;  no  inquiries  will 
be  made  for  her ;  we  may  do  with  her  as  we  like." 

"Oh,  del!  and  we  will  quickly  make  way  with  her." 

"Quickly." 

"But  how?" 

"Another  time  I  will  tell  you,  'Tina.  Now  I  must  be  gone. 
I  must  not  linger  here.     It  becomes  us  to  be  very  wary." 

"Go,  then.  But,  ah!  you  go  to  her.  Misery!  Do  not  love 
her!  If  you  do — remember,  I  will  kill  her!  I  have  sworn 
it.  You  say  that  you  will  make  way  with  her  by  the  help 
of  the  law!  Do  it  soon;  or  be  suvc  -!  will  make  way  with  her 
in  spite  of  the  law!" 

"Hush!  be  tranquil.  Trust  in  me.  You  shall  know  all  in 
a  few  days.     Good-night!" 

"Ah!  you  are  leaving  me.  You,  that  I  have  not  seen  for 
so  many  months  until  now!  And  now  have  seen  but  a  few 
minutes  alone!  And  you  go  to  her — her,  with  whom  you 
have  been  in  company  all  the  time  you  have  been  away  from 
me!  Ah!  I  hate  her!  I  will  kill  her!"  exclaimed  the 
woman,  in  low,  vehement  tones. 

"Faustina,  be  quiet,  or  all  is  lost!  You  must  be  my  sister- 
in-law  onlyuntil  you  can  be  my  wife.  To  accomplish  this  pur- 
pose of  ours,  you  must  be  very,  very  discreet,  as  I  shall  be. 
Be  on  your  guard  always.    Treat  Lady  Vincent  with  outward 


In  tlie  Traitor^s  Toils.  67 

respect,  as  I  must  do,  in  the  presence  of  the  servants.  They 
must  be  our  future  witnesses!  Surely,  you  will  be  enabled 
to  do  what  I  require  of  you  in  this  respect,  when  I  assure 
you  that  I  hate  my  viscountess  as  deeply  as  you  hate  your 
rival!" 

"Ha!  you?" 

"Yes !  for  in  her  heart  she  despises  me  and  adores  another. 
She  is  unfaithful  to  me  in  thought.  And  it  shall  go  hard, 
but  I  will  make  it  appear  that  she  is  unfaithful  in  deed,  too, 
and  so  send  her,  dishonored  and  impoverished,  from  the 
castle !"  said  the  viscount,  vindictively. 

"Ciel!  Is  that  your  plan?  I  understand  now.  I  trust 
you,  my  Malcolm." 

"Good-night,  then ;  and  don't  be  jealous." 

"Never  I    I  trust  you.    I  shall  triumph." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


m  THE  traitor's  toils. 


Overwhelmed  with  horror,  terror  and  indignation,  Claudia 
just  tottered  from  the  room  in  time  to  escape  discovery. 

On  reaching  the  hall  she  saw. the  door  leading  into  her  own 
suite  of  apartments  wide  open  and  all  the  rooms  lighted  up, 
and  old  Katie  moving  about,  unpacking  trunks  and  hanging 
up  dresses. 

When,  at  last,  Katie  had  withdrawn,  and  Claudia  was 
alone,  she  threw  herself  into  an  easy-chair  and  reflected  upon 
her  deplorable  position.  She  realized  that  she  had  been  basely 
deceived  and  betrayed,  and  that  her  situation  was  critical 
and  perilous  in  the  extreme !  What  should  she  do  ?  to  whom 
should  she  appeal? 

Should  she  openly  attempt  to  leave  the  castle  and  return 
to  her  native  country  and  her  friends?  Again,  what  would 
be  the  good  of  such  an  attempt?  Her  departure,  she  felt 
sure,  would  never  be  permitted. 

What,  then,  should  she  do?  The  answer  came  like  an  in- 
spiration! Write  to  her  father  to  come  over  immediately 
to  her  aid.  And  get  him  to  bring  about  her  introduction  to 
the  Earl  of  Hurstmonceaux's  family  and  her  recognition  by 
their  circle.  This  course,  she  thought,  would  secure  her  per- 
sonal safety  and  her  social  position,  if  not  her  domestic  hap- 
piness; for  the  latter  she  had  never  dared  to  bopo.. 

And  while  waiting  for  her  father's  arrival  she  would  be 
"wise  as  serpents"  if  not  "harmless  as  doves."  She  would 
iHeet  Lord  Vincent  on  his  own  ground  and  fight  him  with 
his  own  weapons ;  she  would  beat  duplicity  with  duplicity. 

Within  half  an  hour  an  urgent  letter  was  written  to  hec 
9 


68  In  the  Traitor's  Toils. 

father,  briefly  explaining  her  position,  and  urging  liim  to 
come  to  her  at  once.  The  letter  was  intrusted  to  the  faith- 
ful Jim,  with  directions  to  secretly  mail  it  at  Banff. 

It  was  close  to  ten  o'clock  when  Claudia,  sitting  alone  and 
silently  weeping,  was  startled  by  the  entrance  of  Lord  Vin- 
cent. 

She  hastily  dried  her  eyes  and  shifted  her  position  ao  that 
her  back  was  to  the  light  and  her  face  in  deep  shadow. 

"You  are  sitting  up  late,  my  lady.  I  should  think  you 
would  be  tired  after  your  long  journey,"  he  said,  as  he  took 
another  arm-chair  and  seated  himself  opposite  to  her. 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  retiring,"  answered  Claudia,  put- 
ting severe  constraint  upon  herself. 

"But  since  I  find  you  sitting  up,  if  it  will  not  fatigue  you 
too  much,  I  will  answer  some  questions  you  asked  m*  con- 
cerning Mrs.  Dugald,"  said  his  lordship. 

"Yes?"  said  Claudia,  scarcely  able  to  breathe  the  single 
syllable. 

"Yes.  You  inquired  of  me  who  she  was,  I  told  you  she 
was  my  sister.  You  did  not  believe  me ;  but  you  should  have 
done  so,  for  I  told  you  the  truth.     She  is  my  sister." 

Scarcely  able  to  restrain  her  indignation  at  this  impu- 
dent falsehood,  and  fearful  of  trusting  the  sound  of  her  own 
voice,  Claudia  answered  in  a  low  tone : 

"I  supposed  that  you  were  jesting  with  my  curiosity.  I 
knew,  of  course,  that  your  sisters  were  titled  ladies.  Mrs. 
Dugald  is  an  untitled  one,  therefore  she  could  not  be  your 
sister;  nor  could  she  be  your  sister-in-law,  since  you  are  an 
only  son." 

"You  are  mistaken  in  both  your  premises.  Mrs.  Dugald  is 
my  sister-in-law,  and  is  a  titled  lady,  since  she  is  the  widow 
of  ray  younger  half-brother,  the  Honorable  Kenneth  Dugald," 
said  the  viscount,  triumphantly. 

"I  never  heard  that  your  deceased  brother  had  been  mar- 
ried," answered  Claudia,  coolly. 

_  "No  ?  Why,  bless  you,  yes !  About  four  years  ago  he  mar- 
ried the  beauty  over  whom  all  Paris  was  going  raving  mad. 
She  was  the  prima  donna  of  the  Italian  opera  in  Paris.  But 
the  marriage  was  not  pleasing  to  the  earl,  who  is  severely 
afflicted  with  the  prejudices  of  his  rank.  He  immediately 
disowned  his  son,  the  Honorable  Kenneth,  never  speaking 
to  him  again  during  his  (Kenneth's)  life.  And  more  than 
that,  he  carried  his  resentment  beyond  the  grave;  for  even 
after  Kenneth  died,  of  a  fever  contracted  in  the  Crimea,  and 
his  widow  was  left  unprovided  for,  and  with  the  pleasant 
alternative  of  starving  to  death  or  dragging  the  noble  name 
of  Dugald  before  the  footlights  of  the  stage,  my  father  po- 
litely informed  her  that  she  was  at  liberty  to'  go  on  the  stage 
©r  to  go  tQr—heml    Jt  wfts  tkeathat  I  offered  La  Faustina  aa 


In  the  Traitor's  Toils.  69 

asylum  in  my  house,  which  she  accepted.  And  I  hope,  Lady 
Vincent,  that  you  will  be  good  enough  to  make  her  welcome/' 
said  Lord  Vincent. 

Claudia  could  not  reply ;  the  anger,  scorn  and  disgust  that 
filled  her  bosom  fairly  choked  her  voice. 

After  a  struggle  with  herself  she  managed  to  articulate : 

"How  does  the  earl  like  your  protection  of  this  woman?" 

"I  wish  you  would  not  use  that  word  'protection,'  Claudia. 
It  is  an  equivocal  one." 

"Then  it  is  the  better  suited  to  describe  the  relation  which 
is  certainly  most  equivocal!"  Claudia,  in  despite  of  all  her 
resolutions,  could  not  for  the  life  of  her  help  replying. 

"It  is  false !  And  I  will  not  permit  you  to  say  it  1  The  po- 
sition of  Mrs.  Dugal  here  is  not  an  equivocal  one!  It  is 
clearly  defined!  She  is  my  brother's  widow.  When  I  in- 
vited her  to  take  up  her  residence  in  this  castle  I  took  car© 
to  leave  it  before  she  arrived.  And  I  never  returned  to  it 
until  to-day,  when  I  brought  you  with  me!  Your  presence 
here,  of  course,  renders  the  residence  of  my  brother's  widow 
beneath  my  roof  altogether  proper." 

Claudia  had  much  to  do  to  control  her  feelings  as  she 
said: 

"We  will  waive  the  question  of  propriety,  which,  of  course, 
is  settled  by  my  presence  in  the  house ;  but  you  have  not  yet 
told  me  how  the  earl  likes  this  arrangement." 

"I  have  not  seen  the  earl  since  the  arrangement  has  been 
made.  I  fancy  he  will  like  it  well,  since  it  relieves  him  of 
the  burden  of  having  her  to  suppoil,  and  saves  him  from 
the  mortification  of  seeing  her  return  \o  the  boards." 

"Good-night,  my  lord!"  said  Claudia,  abruptly,  rising  and 
retiring  to  her  bed-room,  for  she  felt  that  she  could  not  re- 
main another  moment  in  Lord  Vincent's  presence  without 
confronting  him  with  her  perfect  knowledge  of  his  meditated 
villainy,  and  thus  losing  her  only  chance  of  defeating  it. 

Claudia  retired  to  bed,  but,  though  worn  out  with  fatigue, 
she  could  not  sleep. 

This,  then,  was  her  coming  home! 

She  had  sold  her  birthright  and  got  not  even  th©  "mess 
of  pottage,"  but  the  cup  of  poison. 

She  lay  tossing  about  with  fevered  veins  and  throbbing 
temples  until  morning,  when,  at  last,  she  sunk  into  a  sleep  of 
exhaustion. 

She  awoke  with  a  prostrating,  nervous  headache,  and  was 
unable  to  leave  her  room  that  day.  The  motherly  Mcs.  Mur- 
dock  called  several  times  to  render  whatever  assistance  was 
needed,  and  Claudia  was  favorably  impressed  by  her  kind  at- 
tentions. From  this  lady,  by  adroit  questioning,  the  un- 
happy wife  learned  that  La  Faustina  was  really  the  widow  of 
Kenneth  Dugald;,  and  that  the  Earl  oi  Hurstmonceux  was 


70  In  the  Traitor's  'Toils. 

■well  pleased  with  his  son's  marriage  to  herself,  and  would 
therefore  be  likely  to  be  her  partisan  in  any  trouble  she 
might  have  on  account  of  Mrs.  Dugald.  She  resolved,  there- 
fore, to  be  very  wary  in  her  conduct  until  the  arrival  of  her 
father,  and  then  to  request  an  introduction  to  the  earl's  fam- 
ily. Bitterly  galling  as  it  would  be  to  her  pride,  she  even 
determined  to  meet  Mrs.  Dugald  in  the  drawing-room  and  at 
the  table  without  demur;  since  she  could  trSat  her  as  the 
widow  of  the  Honorable  Kenneth  Dugald  without  openly 
compromising  her  own  dignity.  Finally  she  concluded  to 
meet  Lord  Vincent's  treacherous  courtesy  with  assumed 
civility. 

On  the  third  day  Lady  Vincent  felt  well  enough  to  join  the 
viscount  and  Mrs.  Dugald  at  breakfast.  Pursuant  to  her 
resolution  she  received  their  congratulations  with  emilea, 
and  answered  their  inquiries  as  to  her  health  with  thanks. 

It  was  a  foggy,  misty,  drizzly  day,  the  precursor  of  a  long 
spell  of  dark. and  gloomy  weather,  that  Claudia  at  length 
grew  to  fear  would  never  come  to  an  end. 

During  this  time  the  monotony  of  Claudia's  life  at  the 
castle  was  really  dreadful. 

And  this  was  something  like  it:  She  would  wake  about 
seven  o'clock,  but,  knowing  that  it  was  hours  too  early  to 
rise  in  that  house,  she  would  lay  and  think  until  she  was 
ready  to  go  mad. 

At  nine  o'clock  she  would  ring  for  her  maid,  Sally,  and 
spend  an  hour  in  dawdling  over  her  toilet. 

At  ten  she  would  go  down  to  breakfast— a  miserable,  un- 
comfortable meal  of  hollow  civility  or  sullen  silence. 

After  breakfast  she  would  go  into  the  library  and  hunt 
among  the  old,  musty,  worm-eaten  books  for  something  read- 
able, but  without  success. 

Then,  ready  to  kill  herself  from  weariness  of  life,  she 
would  wrap  up  in  cloak  and  hood  and  climb  the  turret  stairs 
and  go  out  upon  the  ramparts  of  the  castle  and  walk  up  and 
down  with  the  drizzling  mist  above  and  around  her  and  the 
thundering  sea  beneath  her — up  and  down — hour  after  hour 
— up  and  down — lashing  herself  into  such  excitement  that 
she  would  be  tempted  to  throw  herself  from  the  battlements, 
to  be  crushed  to  death  by  the  rocks  or  swallowed  up  by  the 
waves  below! 

At  length,  as  fearing  to  trust  herself  with  this  tempta- 
tion, she  would  descend  into  the  castle  again,  and  go  to  her 
own  rooms,  and  try  to  interest  herself  in  a  little  needle-work, 
a  little  writing,  a  talk  with  Katie  or  with  Mrs.  Murdock. 

At  last  the  creeping  hours  would  bring  luncheon,  when 
the  same  inharmonious  party  would  assemble  around  the  same 
ungenial  table,  and  eat' and  drink  without  enjoyment  or 
gratitude.  "'"       -  ^  - 


In  tht  Traitor^s  Toils,  71 

After  that  she  would  lie  down  and  try  to  sleep,  and  then 
write  a  letter  home,  do  a  little  embroidery,  yawn,  weep,  wish 
herself  dead,  and  wonder  how  soon  she  would  hear  from  her 
father. 

The  dragging  hours  would  at  length  draw  on  the  late  din- 
ner, when  she  would  make  an  elaborate  toilet,  just  for  pastime. 
and  go  to  dinner,  which  always  seemed  like  a  funeral  feast. 
Here  Claudia  formed  the  habit  of  drinking  much  more  wine 
thun  was  good  for  her;  and  she  did  it  to  blunt  her  sensibil- 
ity, to  obtund  the  sharpness  of  her  heartache,  to  give  her 
sleep. 

After  dinner  they  would  go  into  the  drawing-room,  where 
coffee  would  be  served.  And  after  that,  if  Mrs.  Dugald 
were  in  the  humor,  there  would  be  music.  And  then  the 
party  would  disperse.  Claudia  would  go  into  her  own  room 
and  pass  a  long,  lonely,  wretched  evening,  sometimes  specu- 
lating on  life,  death  and  immortality,  and  wondering  whether, 
in  the  event  of  her  deciding  to  walk  out  of  this  world  with 
which  she  was  so  much  dissatisfied,  into  the  other  of  which 
she  knew  nothing,  she  would  be  any  better  off. 

At  eleven  o'clock  she  always  rang  for  wine  and  biscuits, 
and  drank  enough  to  make  her  sleep.  Then  she  would  go  to 
bed,  sink  into  a  heavy,  feverish  sleep  that  would  last  until 
morning,  when  she  would  awake  with  a  headache,  as  well  as 
a.  heartache,  to  pass  just  such  a  day  as  the  preceding  one. 

No  visitors  ever  came  to  the  house,  and,  of  course,  Clau- 
dia went  nowhere.  She  was  unspeakably  miserable,  and 
would  have  wished  for  death  had  she  not  been  a  firm  believer 
in  future  retribution. 

"Misery  loves  company,"  it  is  said.  There  was  one  inmate 
in  this  unblessed  house  who  seemed  quite  as  miserable  as 
Claudia  herself.  This  was  one  of  the  housemaids,  the  one 
who  had  charge  of  Claudia's  own  rooms.  Lady  Vincent  had 
noticed  this  poor  girl,  and  had  observed  that  she  was  pale, 
thin,  sad,  always  with  red  eyes,  and  often  in  tears.  Onee  she 
inquired  kindly: 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Ailsie  ?" 

"It's  just  naething,  me  leddy,"  was  the  weeping  girl's  an- 
swer. 

"But  I  am  sui'e  it  is  something.  Can  you  not  tell  me? 
What  is  it  troubles  you?" 

"Just  naething,  me  leddy,"  was  still  the  answer. 

"Are  you  away  from  all  yotir  friends?  Are  you  home- 
sick?" 

"I  ha'e  naebody  belanging  to  me,  me  leddy." 

*^ou  are  an  orphan?" 

"Ay,  me  leddy." 

"Then  you  must  really  tell  me  what  is  the  matter  with  you, 
my  poor  child;  I  will  help  you  if  I  can." 


72  A  Link  in  Claudia's  Fate. 

"Indeed,  I  cauua  tell  you,  my  leddy.  Your  leddyship  maun 
please  to  forgi'e  me,  and  not  mind  me  greeting.  It's  just 
naething;  it's  only  a  way  I  ha'e." 

And  this  was  all  that  Claudia  could  get  out  of  this  poor 
girl. 

"What  ails  Ailsie  Dunbar  ?    Her  looks  trouble  me." 

"Indeed,  me  leddy,  I  dinna  ken.  The  lassie  is  sad  fra 
morning  till  night,  and  will  na  gie  onybody  ony  satisfaction 
about  it!  But  I  will  try  to  find  out."  And  that  was  all 
Lady  Vincent  could  get  out  of  the  housekeeper. 

The  month  of  November  crept  slowly  by.  And  December 
came,  darker,  duller,  drearier  than  its  predecessor.  And  now 
anxiety  was  added  to  Claudia's  other  troubles.  She  had  not 
heard  from  her  father. 

The  monotony,  deepened  by  suspense,  grew  horrible !  She 
wished  for  an  earthquake,  or  an  inundation — anything  to 
break  the  dreadful  spell  that  bound  her,  to  burst  the  tomb  of 
her  buried  life  and  let  in  air  and  light. 

Sometimes  she  overheard  the  precious  pair  of  friends  who 
shared  her  home  murmuring  their  sinful  nonsense  together; 
and  she  was  disgusted. 

And  sometimes  she  heard  them  in  angry  and  jealous  alter- 
cation; and  she  grew  insane,  and  wished,  from  the  bottom 
of  her  heart,  that  one  might  murder  the  other,  if  it  were  only 
to  break  the  horrible  monotony  of  the  castle  life,  by  bring- 
ing into  it  the  rabble  rout  of  inspectors,  constables,  coroners 
and  juries.  At  length  there  came  a  day  when  that  frenzied 
wish  was  gratified. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A  LINK  IN  Claudia's  fatb. 

Claudia  had  awakened  one  morning  with  one  of  those  nerv- 
ous headaches  that  were  becoming  habitual  to  her.  She  had 
taken  a  narcotic  sedative  and  gone  to  sleep  again,  and  slept 
throughout  the  day. 

It  was  night  when  she  awoke  again,  and  became  imme- 
diately conscious  of  an  unusual  commotion  in  the  castle. 
There  was  a  swift  and  heavy  running  to  and  fro,  and  of  con- 
fusion of  t-ongues,  giving  voice  in  mingled  tones  of  fear,  grief, 
rage,  consternation,  expostulation,  and  every  key  of  passion- 
ate emotion  and  excitement. 

Lady  Vincent  reached  forth  her  hand  and  rang  the  bell, 
and  then  listened,  but  no  one  answered  it.  She  rang  again, 
with  no  better  success.  After  waiting  some  little  time,  she 
rang  a  violent  peal,  that  presently  brought  the  housekeeper 


A  Link  in  Claudia's  Fate.  73 

txirrying  into  the  room,  pale  as  death,  and  nearly  out  of 
breath. 

"Mrs.  Murdock,  I  have  rnng  three  times.  I  bave  never  be- 
fore had  occasion  to  ring  twice  for  attendance,"  said  Lady 
Vincent,  in  a  displeased  tone. 

"Oh,  me  leddy,  ye  will  e'en  forgi'e  me  this  ance,  when  ye 
come  to  hear  the  cause,"  panted  the  housekeeper. 

"What  has  happened?"  demanded  Claudia. 

"Oh,  me  leddy!  sic  an  awful  event!  Poor  Ailsie!  she's 
found  murthered !"  howled  the  housekeeper. 

"Ailsie !  Great  heaven !  no !"  cried  Claudia,  wound  up  to 
a  pitch  of  frenzied  excitement. 

"Ay  is  she!  found  lying  outside  the  castle  wall,  wi'  her 
puir  throt  cut  fra  ear  to  ear!"  shrieked  the  dame,  covering 
up  her  face  to  smother  the  cries  she  could  not  suppress. 

"Who  did  it  ?"  gasped  Claudia,  under  her  breath. 

"All!  that's  what  we  canna  come  at;  naebody  kens." 

"I  cannot  rest  here  any  longer.  Ring  the  bell,  Mr?.  Mur- 
dock, and  hand  me  my  dressing-gown.  I  must  get  up  and  go 
downstairs.  Good  heavens!  a  poor,  innocent  girl  murdered 
in  this  house,  and  her  murderer  allowed  to  escape !"  exclaimed 
Claudia,  throwing  the  bed-clothes  off  her  and  rising  in  irre- 
pressible excitement. 

"Ah,  me  leddy !  I  fear,  I  greatly  fear,  she  was  no  that  in- 
nocent as  your  leddyship  thinks, puir  bairn !  Nae  that  I  would 
say  ony thing  about  it,  only  its  weel  kenned  noo.  Puir  Ail- 
sie !  she  lost  her  innocence  before  she  lost  her  life,  me  leddy. 
And  I  greatly  misdoubt,  he  that  reft  her  of  the  ane  reft  her 
of  the  ither !"  sobbed  the  dame,  as  she  assisted  Claudia  to  put 
on  her  crimson  silk  dressing-gown. 

"Now  give  me  a  shawl ;  I  must  go  below." 

"Nay,  nay,  me  leddy,  dinna  gang!  It's  awfu'  wark  doon 
there.  They've  brought  her  in,  and  laid  her  on  the  ha'  table, 
and  a'  the  constables  and  laborers  are  there,  forbye  the  serv- 
ants. It's  nae  place  for  you,  me  leddy.  Your  leddyship 
could  na  stand  it." 

"Any  one  who  has  stood  six  weeks  of  the  ordinary  life  in 
this  house  can  stand  anything  else  under  the  sun !"  exclaimed 
Claudia,  wrapping  herself  in  the  large  India  shawl  that  was 
handed  her  and  hurrying  downstairs. 

The  hall  was  filled  to  suffocation  with  a  motley  crowd,  who 
were  pressing  around  some  object  extended  upon  the  table. 

Forgetting  her  fastidiousness  for  once,  Lady  Vincent" 
pushed  her  way  through  this  crowd  of  "unwashed"  workmen, 
whose  greasy,  dusty  and  begrimed  clothes  soiled  her  bright, 
rich  raiment  as  she  passed. 

Claudia  pressed  on  and  approached  the  table.  Three  con- 
Btables  stood  around-  it  to  guard  the  dead  body  from  the  touch 
of  meddlesome  hands.    On  seeing  Lady  Vineent  with  th©  air 


74  A  Link  in  Claudia's  Fate. 

of  one  having  authority,  the  constable  that  guarded  the  head 
of  the  table  guessed  at  her  rank  and  officiously  turned  down 
the  white  sheet  and  revealed  the  horrible  object  beneath — 
the  ghastly  face  fallen  back,  with  its  chin  dropped,  and  ita 
mouth  and  eyes  wide  open  and  rigid  in  death ;  and  the  gaping, 
red  wound  across  the  throat  cut  so  deep  that  it  nearly  severed 
the  head  from  the  body!  With  a  suppressed  shriek  Claudia 
clapped  her  hands  to  her  face  to  shut  out  the  awful  sight. 

At  the  same  moment  she  felt  her  arm  grasped  by  a  firm 
hand,  and  her  name  called  in  a  stern  voice : 

"Lady  Vincent,  why  are  you  here  ?  Eetire  at  onoe  to  your 
chamber." 

Claudia,  too  much  overcome  with  horror  to  dispute  the 
point,  suffered  the  viscount  to  draw  her  out  of  the  crowd  to 
the  foot  of  the  stairs.  Here  she  recovered  herself  sufficiently 
to  inquire: 

"What  has  been  done,  my  lord?  What  steps  have  been 
taken  toward  the  discovery  and  arrest  of  this  poor  girl's  mur- 
derer ?" 

"All  that  is  possible  has  been  done,  or  is  doing.  The  coro- 
ner has  been  summoned;  the  inspector  has  been  sent  for;  a 
telegram  has  been  dispatched  to  Scotland  Yard,  in  London, 
for  an  experienced  detective.  Rest  easy,  Lady  Vincent. 
Here,  Mistress  Gorilla !     Attend  your  lady  to  her  apartment." 

This  last  order  was  addressed  to  Katie,  who  was  lingering 
on  the  stairs,  and  who  was  glad  to  receive  this  charge  from 
Lord  Vincent. 

"Come  along,  Miss  Claudia,  honey,"  she  said,  as  soon  as 
the  viscount  had  left  them;  "come  along!  We  can't  do  no 
good,  not  by  staying  here  no  longer." 

Lady  Vincent  hurried  as  fast  as  her  agitation  would  per- 
mit her  from  the  scene  of  the  dreadful  tragedy,  iincoriscious 
how  closely  this  poor,  murdered  girl's  fate  would  be  connected 
with  her  own  future  destiny.  She  gained  the  shelter  of  her 
owp.  apartments  and  shut  herself  up  there,  while  the  investi- 
gations into  the  murder  proceeded. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  go  deeply  into  the  revoltingt 
details  of  the  events  that  followed. 

The  coroner  arrived  the  same  evening  and  empaneled  his 
jury  and  commenced  the  inquest.  Soon  after  the  inspector 
came  from  Banff.  And  the  next  morning  a  skilful  detective 
arrived  from  London.  And  the  investigations  commenced  in 
earnest.  Many  witnesses  were  examined;  extensive  searches 
were  made,  and  all  measures  taken  to  find  out  some  clue  to 
the  nlurderer,  buc  in  vain.  The  police  held  possession  of  the 
premises  for  nearly  a  week,  and  the  coroner's  jury  sat  day 
after  day;  but  all  to  no  purpose,  as  far  as  the  discovery  o.; 
th"  perpetrator  of  the  crime  was  concerned.     This  seemed 


0 

A  Link  in  Claudia's  Fate.  75 

one  of  the  obstinate  murders  that,  in  spite  of  the  old  proverb 
to  the  contrary,  will  not  "out." 

On  Saturday  night  the  baffled  coroner's  jury  returned  their 
unsatisfactory  verdict : 

"The  deceased,  Ailsie  Dunbar,  came  to  her  death  by  a 
wound  inflicted  in  her  throat  with  a  razor  held  in  the  hands 
of  some  person  unknown  to  the  jury." 

And  the  house  was  rid  of  coroner,  jury,  inspector,  detective, 
country  constables  and  all ;  and  the  poor  girl's  body  was  per- 
mitted to  be  laid  in  the  earth;  and  the  household  breathed 
freely  again. 

The  same  evening  Lord  Vincent,  being  alone  in  his  dress- 
ing-room, rang  his  bell;  and  his  valet,  as  usual,  answered  it. 

"Come  in  here,  Frisbiel  Shut  the  door  after  you,  and 
stand  before  me,"  said  his  lordship. 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  answered  the  servant,  securing  the  door 
and  standing  before  his  master. 

Lord  Vincent  sat  with  his  back  to  the  window  and  his  face 
in  the  shadow,  while  the  light  from  the  window  fell  full  on  • 
the  face  of  the  valet,  who  stood  before  him.  This  was  a 
position  Lord  Vincent  always  managed  to  secure  when  he 
wished  to  read  the  countenance  of  his  interlocutor,  without 
exposing  his  own. 

"Well,  Frisbie,  they  are  gone,"  said  his  lordsMp,  looking 
wistfully  into  the  face  of  his  servant. 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  replied  the  latter,  looking  down. 

"And — without  discovering  the  murderer  of  Ailsie  Dun- 
bar," he  continued,  in  a  meaning  voice. 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  replied  the  valet,  with  the  slightest  possible 
quaver  in  his  tone. 

"That  must  be  a  very  great  relief  to  your  feelings,  Fris- 
bie I"  said  the  viscount. 

"I — have  not  the  honor  to  understand  your  lordship,"  fal- 
tered Frisbie,  changing  color. 

"Haven't  you?  Why,  that  is  strange!  My  meaning  is 
clear  enough.  I  say  it  must  be  a  very  great  relief  to  your 
feelings,  Frisbie,  to  have  the  inquest  so  well  over  and  all  the 
law-officers  out  of  the  house !  You  must  have  endured  agon- 
ies of  terror  while  they  were  here !  I  know  I  should  in  your 
place.  Why,  I  expected  every  day  that  you  would  bolt, 
though  that  woiild  have  been  the  worst  thing  you  could  pos- 
sibly have  done,  too,  for  it  would  have  been  sure  to  direct 
suspicion  toward  you,  and  you  would  have  been  certain  to  be 
recaptured  before  you  could  have  got  out  of  England,^'  said 
Lord  Vincent,  coolly. 

"I — I — my  lord — I  have  not  the  honor — ^to — to — under '* 

began  the  man,  but  his  teeth  chattered  so  that  he  could  not 
eniiuciate  another  syllable. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  have  the  honor,  if  you  contsider  it  such.    Yoil 


76 


A  Link  In  Claudia's  Fate. 


understand  me  well  enough !  What  is  the  use  of  attempting 
to  deceive  me  ?  Frisbie,  I  was  an  eye-witness  to  the  death  of 
Ailsie  Dunbar,"  said  his  lordship,  emphatically,  and  fixing 
his  eye  firmly  upon  the  face  of  his  valet. 

Down  fell  the  wretch  upon  his  knees,  with  his  hands 
clasped,  his  face  blanched,  and  his  teeth  chattering. 

"Oh,  my  lord !  mercy !  mercy !  It  was  unpremeditated,  in- 
deed it  was!  it  was  an  accident!  it  was  done  in  the  heat  of 
passion!  and — and — she  did  it  herself!"  gasped  the  wretch, 
80  beside  himself  with  fright  that  he  did  not  clearly  know 
what  he  was  talking  about. 

"Frisbie,  stop  lying!  Did  it  herself,  eh?  I  saw  you  do 
the  deed!  The  razor  was  in  your  hands!  She  struggled 
and  begged,  poor  creature,  and  cut  her  poor  hands  in  her 
efforts  to  save  her  throat;  but  you  completed  your  purpose 
effectually  before  I  could  appear  and  prevent  you  from  mur- 
dering her.  Then  I  kept  your  secret,  since  no  good  could 
come  of  my  telling  it." 

"Mercy!  mercy,  my  lord!  indeed  it  was  unpremeditated! 
It  was  done  in  the  heat  of  passion.  She  had  driven  me  mad 
with  jealousy !" 

"Bosh!  what  do  you  suppose  I  care  whether  you  commit- 
ted the  crime  in  hot  blood  or  cold  blood  ?  whether  it  was  the 
result  of  a  momentary  burst  of  frenzy,  or  of  a  long  premed- 
itated and  carefully  arranged  plan?  It  is  enough  for  me  to 
know  that  I  saw  you  do  the  deed !  You  murdered  that  girl ! 
and  if  the  coroner's  jury  had  not  been  just  about  the  stupid- 
est lot  of  donkeys  that  ever  undertook  to  sit  on  a  case,  you 
would  be  now  in  jail  waiting  your  trial  for  murder  before  the 
next  assizes." 

"Mercy !  mercy,  my  lord !    I  am  in  your  power  I" 

"Hold  your  tongue  and  get  up  off  your  knees  and  listen 
to  me,  you  cowardly  knave!  Don't  you  know  that  if  I  had 
wished  to  hang  you  I  could  have  done  so  by  lodging  informa- 
tion against  you?  Nonsense!  I  don't  want  to  hang  ycu!  I 
think,  with  the  Quaker,  that  hanging  is  the  worst  use  you 
can  put  a  man  to !  Now,  I  don't  want  to  put  you  to  that  use. 
I  have  other  uses  for  you.    Get  up,  you  precious  knave !" 

"Oh,  my  lord!  put  me  to  any  use  your  lordship  wishes! 
and,  no  matter  what  it  is,  I  will  serve  you  faithfully  in  it !" 
said  the  wretch,  rising  from  his  knees  and  standing  in  a 
cowed  and  deprecating  manner  before  his  master. 

"It  is  perfectly  clear  to  me,  Frisbie,  that  you  settled  that 
girl  to  silence  a  troublesome  claimant  of  whom  you  could  not 
rid  yourself  in  any  other  way." 

"Your  lordship  knows  everything!  It  was  so,  my  lord. 
She  was  all  the  time  bothering  me  about  broken  promises 
and  all  that." 

'And  so  you  settled  all  her  claims  by  one  blow  I    Well,  yoq 


A  Link  in  Claudia's  Fate.  77 

havtf  got  rid  of  the  woman  that  troubled  you;  and  now  I 
mean  that  you  shall  help  me  to  get  rid  of  one  who  troubles 
me!" 

"In — in — in  the  same  manner,  my  lord?"  gasped  the  man, 
in  an  accession  of  deadly  terror. 

"No,  you  stupid  fool !  I  am  not  a  master  butcher,  to  give 
you  such  an  order  as  that!  Noblemen  are  not  cut-throats, 
you  knave!  You  shall  rid  me  of  my  troublesome  woman  in. 
SL  safer  way  than  that !  And  you  shall  do  it  as  the  price  of 
my  silence  as  to  your  own  little  affair." 

"I  am  your  lordship's  obedient,  humble  servant.  Tour 
lordship  will  do  what  you  please  with  me!  I  am  at  your 
lordship's  disposal,"  whined  the  criminal. 

"Well,  I  should  think  you  were,  when  I  hold  ono  end  of  a 
rope  of  which  the  other  end  is  around  your  neck!  Come 
closer  and  stoop  down  until  you  bring  your  ear  to  a  level 
with  my  lips,  for  I  must  speak  low,"  said  his  lordship. 

The  man  obeyed. 

And  Lord  Vincent  confided  to  his  confederate  a  plan 
against  the  peace  and  honor  of  his  viscountess  of  so  detes- 
table and  revolting  a  nature,  that  even  this  ruthless  assas- 
sin shrunk  in  loathing  and  disgust  from  the  thought  of  be- 
coming a  participator  in  it.  But  he  was,  as  he  had  said,  at 
the  disposal  of  Lord  Vincent,  who  held  one  end  of  the  rope 
of  which  the  other  was  around  his  own  neck,  and  so  he  ended 
in  becoming  the  confederate  and  instrument  of  the  viscount. 

When  this  was  all  arranged  Lord  Vincent  dismissed  the 
valet  with  the  words : 

"Now  be  at  ease,  Frisbie!  for  as  long  as  you  are  faithful 
to  me  I  will  be  silent  in  regard  to  you." 

And  as  the  second  dinner-bell  had  run  some  little  time  be- 
fore, Lord  Vincent  stepped  before  the  glass,  brushed  his  hair 
and  went  downstairs. 

As  soon  aa  he  had  left  the  room  another  person  appeared 
upon  the  scene.  Old  Katie  came  out  from  the  thick  folds  of 
a  window  curtain  and  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room  with 
uplifted  hands  and  uprolled  eyes,  and  an  expression  of  coun- 
tenance indescribable  by  any  word  in  our  language.  She 
was  extremely  agitated. 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed,  "I've  found  out  somefin  as  all  de 
crowners,  and  constables  and  law-fellows  couldn't  find  out 
wid  all  deir  larnin' !  And  dat  is  who  kilt  poor  misf  ortunate 
Miss  Ailsie,  poor  gal !  And  I've  found  out  somefin  worse  'an 
dat,  dough  people  might  think  there  couldn't  be  nothing 
worse;  but  deir  is !  And  dat  is  dis  deblish  plot  agin  my  lady- 
ship !  _  Now,  I  go  right  straight  and  tell  my  ladyship  all 
about  it,"  said  Katie,  hurrying  from  the  room. 

She  met  Lady  Vincent,  elegantly  dressed  in  a  rose  colored 


78 


A  Link  in  Claudia's  Fate, 


brocade  and  adorned  with  pearls,  on  her  way  to  the  dinner- 
table. 

"Oh,  my  ladyship!  I've  found  out  somefin'  dreadful.  I 
must  tell  you  all  about  it!"  she  exclaimed,  in  excitement  as 
she  stopped  her  mistress. 

"Not  now,  Katie!  Dirmer  is  waiting.  Go  into  my  dress- 
ing-room and  stop  there  until  I  come.  I  will  not  staj'  long 
in  the  drawing-room  this  evening,"  said  Lady  Vincent,  who 
thought  that  Katie's  news  would  prove  to  be  only  some  fresh 
rumors  concerning  the  murder  of  poor  Ailsie. 

"My  ladyship,  you  had  better  stop  and  hear  me,"  pleaded 
the  old  woman. 

"I  tell  you  dinner  is  waiting,  Katie,"  said  Lady  Vincent, 
hurrying  past  her. 

Ah!  she  had  better  stopped  then,  if  she  had  only  known  it! 

Old  Katie  groaned  in  the  spirit  and  went  to  the  dressing- 
room  as  she  was  bid. 

She  sat  down  before  the  fire  and  looked  at  the  clock  on  the 
chimney  piece.  It  was  just  seven.  Slowly,  slowly,  passed 
that  hour  of  waiting.     The  clock  struck  eight. 

"She'll  be  here  every  minute  now!"  said  old  Katie,  with 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

But  minute  after  minute  passed  and  Claudia  did  not  come. 
!A  half  an  hour  slipped  away.  Old  Katie  in  her  impatience 
got  up  and  walked  about  the  room.  She  heard  the  rustle  of 
silken  drapery,  and  peeped  out.  It  was  only  Mrs.  Dugald, 
in  her  rich  white  brocade  dress,  passing  into  her  own  apart- 
ments. 

"Nasty,  wenemouSj  pison  sarpent!  I'll  fix  you  out  yet!" 
muttered  old  Katie  between  her  teeth.  "I  do  wonder  what 
has  become  of  my  ladyship !"  she  continued.  "This  is  a  keep- 
ing of  her  word  like  a  ladyship  oughter,  ain't  it,  now?  I'll 
go  and  look  for  her." 

But  just  as  she  had  opened  the  door  for  that  purpose,  her 
eyes  fell  upon  the  figure  of  the  viscount,  creeping  with 
stealthy,  silent,  cat-like  steps  towai'd  the  apartments  of  Mrs. 
Dugald,  in  which  he  disappeared. 

"Ah  ha!  dat's  somefin'  else!  Somefin'  goin'  on  in  dere! 
Well !  if  I  don't  ax  myself  to  dat  party,  mj''  name's  not  old 
aunt  Katie  Mortimer,  dat's  all !"  said  the  old  woman  in  glee, 
as  she  cautiously  stole  from  the  room  and  approached  the 
door  leading  into  Mrs.  Dugald's  apartments. 

When  at  the  door,  which  was  ajar,  she  peeped  in.  The 
Buite  was  arranged  upon  the  same  plan  as  Lady  Vincent's 
own.  As  Katie  peered  in,  she  saw  through  the  vista  of  three 
rooms  into  the  dressing-room,  which  was  the  last  of  the  suite. 
Before  the  dressing-room  fire,  she  saw  the  viscount  and  Mrs. 
Dugald  standing,  tbeir  faces  toward  the  fire;  their  backd 
toward  Katie. 


A  Link  in  Claudia's  Fate.  79 

She  cautiously  opened  the  door  and  stepped  in,  closing  it 
silently  behind  her.  Then  she  crept  through  the  intervening 
rooms  and  reached  the  door  of  the  dressing-room  which  was 
draped  with  heavy  velvet  hangings,  and  she  concealed  her- 
self in  their  folds,  where  she  could  see  and  hear  everything 
that  passed. 

"How  long  is  this  to  go  on  ?  Do  you  know  that  the  pres- 
ence of  my  rival  maddens  me  every  hour  of  the  day?  Are 
you  not  afraid — you  would  be,  if  you  knew  me! — that  I 
should  do  some  desperate  deed?  I  tell  you  that  /  am  afraid 
of  myself !  I  cannot  always  restrain  my  impulses,  Malcolm ! 
There  are  moments  when  I  doubt  whether  you  are  not  play- 
ing me  false !"  said  Mrs.  Dugald,  with  passionate  earnestness. 

"Faustina,  you  know  that  I  adore  you !  Be  patient  a  few 
days  longer!  a  very  few  days!  The  time  is  nearly  ripe.  I 
have  at  last  found  the  instrument  of  which  I  have  been  so 
much  in  need.  This  man,  Frisbie.  He  is  completely  in  my 
power,  and  will  be  a  ready  tool.  I  will  tell  you  the  whole 
scheme.  But  stop !  first  I  must  secure  this  interview  from  in- 
terruption !  Not  a  word  of  this  communication  must  be  over- 
heard by  any  chance  listener,"  said  Lord  Vincent. 

And  to  poor  old  Katie's  consternation  he  passed  swiftly  to 
the  outer  door  of  the  suite  of  rooms,  locked  it  and  put  the 
key  in  his  pocket,  and  returned  to  the  dressing-room,  the  door 
of  which  remained  open. 

"Dere ! !  if  I  ain't  cotch  like  an  old  rat  in  a  trap,  you 
may  take  my  hat!  Don't  care!  I  gwine  hear  all  dey  got 
to  say!  An'  if  dey  find  me  dey  can't  hang  me  for  it,  dat's 
one  good  thing!  And  maybe  dey  won't  find  me,  if  I  keep 
still  till  my  lordship — perty  lordship  he  is — unlocks  de  door 
and  goes  out,  and  den  I  slip  out  myself,  just  as  I  slipped  in, 
and  nobody  none  de  wiser !  Only  if  I  don't  sneeze !  I  feel 
dreadful  like  sneezing!  Nobody  ever  had  such  an  unlucky 
nosft  as  I  have  got !  Laws,  laws,  if  I  was  to  sneeze !"  thought 
old  Katie  as  she  lurked  behind  the  draperies. 

But  soon  every  sense  was  absorbed  in  listening  to  the  vil- 
lanous  plot  that  Lord  Vincent  was  unfolding  to  his  com- 
panion. It  was  the  very  same  plot  that  he  had  communi- 
cated to  his  valet,  the  atrocity  of  which  had  shocked  even 
that  cut -throat.  It  did  not  shock  Faustina,  however!  She 
listened  with  avidity !  She  co-operated  with  zeal !  She  sug- 
gested such  modifications  and  improvements  for  securing  the 
success  of  the  conspiracy,  and  the  safety  of  the  conspirators, 
as  only  her  woman's  tact,  inspired  by  the  demon,  could  in- 
vent. 

"Oh  I  the  she-sarpint !  the  deadly,  wenemous,  pisonous  sar- 
pint!"  shuddered  Katie,  in  her  hiding-place.  "I've  heern 
enough  this  night  to  hang  the  shamwally,  and  send  all  the 


So  A  Link  in  Claudia's  Fate. 

rest  on  'em  to  Bottommy  Bay !  And  I'll  do  it,  too,  if  ever  t 
live  to  get  out'n  this  room  alive !" 

But  at  that  instant  the  catastrophe  that  Katie  had  dreaded 
occurred.    Katie  sneezed — once,  twice,  thrice: 

"Hick-ket-choo !    Hick-ket-choo!    Hick-ket-choo!" 

Had  a  bomb-shell  exploded  in  the  room  it  could  not  havb 
excited  a  greater  commotion. 

Lord  Vincent  sprang  up,  and  in  an  instant  had  the  eaves- 
dropper by  the  throat. 

"Now,  you  old  devil,  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?" 
demanded  the  viscount,  in  a  voice  of  repressed  fury,  as  he 
shook  Katie. 

"I  say — cuss  my  nose!  There  never  was  sich  a  misfor- 
tunate  nose  on  anybody's  face  L  a  squoking  out  dat  way  in  on- 
seasonable  hours !"  cried  Katie. 

"How  dare  you  be  caught  eavesdropping  in  these  rooms, 
you  wretch?"  demanded  the  viscount,  giving  her  another 
shake. 

"And  why  wouldn't  I,  you  grand  vilyun  ?  And  you  here  a 
plotting  of  your  deblish  plots  agin  my  own  dear  babyship  ? — • 
I  mean  my  ladyship,  as  is  like  my  own  dear  baby?  And 
'wretch'  yourself!  And  how  dare  you  lay  your  hands  on  me? 
on  me,  as  has  heern  enough  this  precious  night  to  send  you 
down  to  the  bottom  of  Bottommy  Bay,  to  work  in  de  mud, 
wid  a  chain  and  a  weight  to  your  leg,  you  rascal !  and  a  man 
with  a  whip  over  your  head,  you  vilyun!  Stead  o'  standin' 
dere  sassin'  at  me,  you  ought  to  go  down  on  your  bare  knees, 
and  beg  and  pray  me  to  spare  you!  Dough  you  needn't, 
neither  'cause  I  wouldn't  do  it !  no !  not  if  you  war  to  wallow 
under  my  feet,  I  wouldn't.  'Cause  soon  as  eber  I  gets  out'n 
dis  room,  I  gwine  right  straight  to  de  queen,  and  tell  her  all 
about  it;  and  ax  her  if  she's  de  mist'ess  of  England  i.nd  lets 
sich  goings  on  as  dese  go  on  in  her  kingdom!  And  if  T  can't 
get  speech  of  the  queen,  I  going  tp  tell  de  fust  magistet  I 
can  find!  dere!  And  you,  too,  you  white  salt-petre!  you 
ought  dis  minute  to  be  pickin'  of  oakum  in  a  crash  gown 
and  cropped  hair!  And  you  shall  be  too,  afore  many  days, 
ef  eber  I  lives  to  get  out'n  dis  house  alive!"  shrieked  Katie, 
shaking  her  fist  first  at  one  culprit  and  then  at  the  other, 
and  glaring  inextinguishable  hatred  and  defiance  upon  both. 
For  righteous  wrath  had  rendered  her  perfectly  insensible  to 
fear. 

Meanwhile  the  viscount  held  her  in  a  death-grip;  his  face 
was  ghastly  pale;  his  teeth  tightly  clenched;  his  eyes  wildly 
starting. 

"Faustina,  she  is  as  ignorant  as  dirt,  but  her  threats  are 
not  vain!  If  she  leaves  this  room  alive  all  is  lost!"  he  exi 
laimed,  in  breathless  excitement. 

"fih.A  mvsi  not  leave  it  alive!"  ^aid  the  fell  woman. 


At  Sea.  Sx 

Ivatit*  Keard  the  fatal  words,  and  opened  her  month  to 
scream  for  help. 

But  the  fingers  of  the  viscount  tightened  around  her  throat 
and  strangled  the  scream  in  its  utterance.  And  he  bore  her 
down  to  the  floor  and  placed  his  knee  on  her  chest.  And 
there  was  miirder  in  the  glare  with  which  he  watched  her 
death-throes. 

"Faustina!"  he  whispered,  hoarsely,  "help  me!  have  you 
nothing  to  shorten  this?" 

She  flew  to  a  cabinet,  from  which  she  took  a  small  vial, 
filled  with  a  colorless  liquid,  and  brought  it  to  him. 

He  disengaged  one  hand  to  take  it,  and  then  stooped  over 
his  victim.  And  in  a  few  moments  Katie  ceased  to  strug- 
gle. 

Then  he  arose  from  his  knees  with  a  low  laugh,  whispering : 

"It  is  all  right !" 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AT  SEA. 

"All  that  is  good  must  be  worked  for,"  wrote  the  wisest  of 
our  sages.  Ishmael  felt  the  truth  of  this,  and- worked  hard. 
His  reputation  was  established  on  a  firm  foundation  and  he 
was  building  it  up  strongly  as  well  as  highly. 

Strangers  who  had  heard  of  the  celebrated  young  barrister, 
and  had  occasion  to  seek  his  professional  services  always  ex- 
pected to  find  a  man  of  thirty  or  thirty-five  years  old,  and 
were  astonished  to  see  one  of  scarcely  twenty-two. 

On  the  first  Monday  in  December  Congress  met  as  usual. 
And  about  the  middle  of  the  month  the  Supreme  Court  sat. 
Therefore  Ishmael  was  not  very  much  surprised  when  one 
morning,  just  after  he  had  brought  a  very  difficult  suit  to  a 
triumphant  termination,  to  see  his  friend.  Judge  Merlin,  en- 
ter his  private  office. 

Ishmael  started  up  joyously  to  greet  his  visitor ;  but  ttopped 
short  on  seeing  how  pale,  haggard  and  feeble  the  old  man 
looked.    And  his  impulsive  exclamation  of — 

"Oh,  judge,  I  am  so  glad_to  see  you,"  changed  at  once  to 
the  commiserating  words — "How  sorry  I  feel  to  see  you  so  in- 
disposed !  Have  you  been  ill  long  ?"  he  inquired,  as  he  placed 
his  easiest  chair  for  the  supposed  invalid. 

"Yes,  I  have  been  ill,  Ishmael !  very  ill !  but  not  long,  and 
not  in  body!  in  mind,  Ishmael!  in  mind!"  and  the  old  man 
sank  into  the  chair,  and,  resting  his  elbow  on  the  office  table, 
bowed  his  stricken  head  upon  his  hand. 

Ishmael  drew  near'and  bent  over  him  in  respectful  sym- 
pathy,  waiting  for  his   confidence. 


82  At  Sea. 

"Can  I  serve  you  in  any  way,  sir?  You  know  that  I  attf 
devoted  to  your  interests." 

"Yes,  Ishmael,  yes,  I  know  that  you  are  the  most  faithful 
of  friends,  as  well  as  the  most  accomplished  of  counsellors. 
It  is  in  both  characters,  my  dear  boy,  that  you  are  wanted 
to-day." 

"Instruct  me,  sir!  Command  me!  I  am  entirely  at  your 
disposal." 

"Even  to  the  extent  of  going  to  Europe  with  me?" 

Ishmael  hesitated,  but  only  because  he  was  utterly  unpre- 
pared for  the  proposal ;  and  then  he  answered. 

"Yes,  sir,  if  it  should  appear  to  be  really  necessary  to  your 
interests." 

"Oh,  Ishmael!  I  am  an  old  and  world-worn  man,  and  I 
have  had  much  experience;  but,  indeed,  I  know  not  how  to 
break  to  you  the  news  I  have  to  bring !"  groaned  the  judge. 

"If  there  is  any  man  in  the  world  you  can  confide  in,  it 
is  surely  myself,  your  friend  and  your  attorney." 

"I  feel  sure  of  that,  Ishmael;  quite  sure  of  that.  Well! 
I  do  not  see  any  better  way  of  putting  you  in  possession  of 
the  facts  than  by  letting  you  read  these  letters.  When  you 
have  read  them  all,  you  will  know  as  much  as  I  do,"  said 
the  judge,  as  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  parcel  of  papers 
and  looked  over  them.  "There,  read  that  first,"  he  continued, 
placing  one  in  Ishmael's  hand. 

Ishmael  opened  the  letter  and  read  as  follows : 

Castle  Cragg,  near  Banff,  Buchan,  Scotland. 
My  Dearest  Father: — We  are  all  in  good  health;  there- 
fore do  not  be  alarmed,  even  though  I  earnestly  implore  you 
to  drop  everything  you  may  have  in  hand  and  come  over  to 
me  immediately,  by  the  very  first  steamer  that  sails  after 
your  receipt  of  this  letter.  Father,  you  will  comply  with  my 
entreaty  when  I  inform  you  that  I  have  been  deceived  and 
betrayed  by  him  who  swore  to  cherish  and  protect  me.  My 
life  and  honor  are  both  imperilled.  I  will  undertake  to  guard 
both  for  a  month,  until  you  come.  But  come  at  once  to  your 
wronged  but  Loving  child,  Claudia. 

"Good  heaven,  sir!  what  does  this  mean?"  exclaimed  Ish- 
mael, looking  up,  after  he  had  read  the  letter. 

"I  do  not  clearly  know  myself!  It  is  what  I  wish  you  to 
help  me  to  find  out." 

"But — when  was  this  letter  received?" 

"On  Monday  last." 

"On  Monday  last,"  repeated  Ishmael,  glancing  at  the  en- 
velope— "that  was  the  5th  of  December ;  and  it  is  postmarked 
'Banff,  October  15th.'  Is  it  possible  that  this  important  let- 
ter has  been  seven  weeks  on  its  way  ?" 

*'Yes,  it  is  quite  possible     If  you  look  at  the  envelope 


At  Sea.  83 


closely  you  will  see  that  it  is  stamped  'Missent/  and  remailed 
from  San  Francisco,  Cal.,  to  which  place  it  waa  sent  by  mis- 
take. You  perceive  it  has  traveled  half  around  tho  world 
before  coming  here." 

"How  very  unfortunate!  and  a  letter  so  urgent  as  this  I 
Sir,  can  you  give  me  any  idea  of  the  sort  of  danger  that 
threatens  Lady  Vincent?"  inquired  Ishmael,  raising  his  eyes 
for  a  moment  from  his  study  of  the  letter. 

"Read  this  second  letter;  I  received  it,  and  a  third  one, 
by  the  very  same  mail  that  brought  the  long-delayed  first 
one,"  replied  the  judge. 

Ishmael  took  this  letter  also,  and  read: 

McGruder's  Hotel,  Edinboro',  Scotland. 
Novemher  25th,  134 — . 
My  Dearest  Father  : — I  wrote  to  you  about  six  weeks  ago, 
informing  you  that  I  was  in  sorrow  and  in  danger,  and 
imploring  you  to  come  and  comfort  and  protect  me.  And 
since  that  time  I  have  been  waiting  with  the  most  acute 
anxiety  to  hear  from  you  by  letter  or  in  person.  Expecting 
this  with  confidence,  I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  write 
again.  But,  as  so  long  a  time  has  elapsed,  I  begin  to  fear 
that  you  have  not  received  my  letter,  and  so  I  v/rite  again. 
Oh,  my  father !  if  you  should  not  be  already  on  your  way  to 
my  relief — if  you  should  be  still  lingering  at  home  on  the 
receipt  of  this  letter,  fly  to  me  at  once!  My  situation  is 
desperate;  my  danger  imminent;  my  necessity  extreme.  Oh, 
sir!  an  infamous  plot  has  been  hatched  against  me;  I  have 
been  driven  with  ignominy  from  my  husband's  house;  my 
name  has  gone  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  England,  a 
by-word  of  reproach!  I  am  alone  and  penniless  in  this  ho- 
tel ;  in  which  I  know  not  how  short  the  time  may  be  that  they 
will  permit  me  to  stay.  Come !  Come  quickly !  Come  and 
save  if  it  be  possible,  your  wretched  child,  Claudia. 

"Heavens!  how  can  this  be?"  cried  Ishmael,  looking  up 
from  these  fearful  lines  into  the  woe-worn  face  of  the  judge. 

"Oh,  I  know  but  little  more  than  yourseK !  Head  this  third 
letter." 

Ishmael  eagerly  took  and  opened  it  and  read : 

Cameron  Court,  near  Edinboro', 

Novemher  27ih,  184 — 
Judge  Merlin — Sir: — Tour  unhappy  daughter  is  under 
my  roof.  As  soon  as  I  heard  what  had  happened  at  Castle 
Cragg,  and  learBed  that  she  was  alone  and  unprotected  at 
McGruder's,  I  lost  no  time  in  going  to  her  and  offering  my 
sympathy  and  protection.  I  induced  her  to  come  with  me 
to  my  home.  I  have  heard  her  story  from  her  own  lips.  And 
I  believe  her  to  be  the  victim  of  a,  ciuwingly  contrived  eoa- 
6 


84 


At  Sea. 


Bpiraoy.  Lord  Vlnceot  has  filed  a  petition  for  divoti.^,  upon 
the  ground  of  her  alleged  infidelity.  Therefore  I  join  my  ur- 
gent request  to  hers,  that  if  this  finds  you  still  in  America 
you  will  instantly  on  its  receipt  leave  for  England.  I  write 
in  great  haste  to  send  my  letter  by  the  Irish  Express  so  aa 
it  may  intercept  the  steamer  at  Queenstown  and  reach  you 
by  the  same  mail  that  carries  hers  of  the  25th;  and  so  miti- 
gate your  anxiety  by  assuring  you  of  her  personal  safety, 
with  sympathizing  friends;  although  her  honor  is  endau- 
gered  by  a  diabolical  conspiracy,  from  which  it  will  require 
the  utmost  legal  skill  to  deliver  her. 

With  great  respect,  sir,  I  remain, 
Berenice,  Countess  of  Huretmonceux. 

"You  will  go  by  the  first  steamer,  sir,"  said  Ishmael. 

"Certainly,  This  is  Saturday  morning;  one  sails  at  noon 
from  New  York  to-day;  but  I  could  not  catch  that." 

"Of  course  not;  but  the  'Oceana'  sails  from  Boston  on 
Wednesday." 

"Yes;  I  shall  go  by  her.  But,  Ishmael,  can  you  go  with 
me?"  inquired  the  judge,  with  visible  anxiety. 

"Certainly,"  promptly  replied  the  young  man,  never  hint- 
ing at  the  sacrifices  he  would  have  to  make  in  order  to  ac- 
company his  friend  on  so  long  a  journey. 

"Thank  you!  thank  you!  my  dear  Ishmael.  I  knew  you 
would.  You  will  be  of  great  assistance.  Of  course,  we  must 
oppose  this  rascally  viscount's  petition,  and  do  our  best  to 
unmask  his  villany." 

Ishmael  decided,  before  starting  on  his  trip,  to  make  hur- 
ried visits  to  Bee,  to  his  father,  and  to  Hannah  and  Reuben. 
Judge  Merlin  had  authorized  him  to  explain  to  Mr.  Middle- 
ton  the  motive  of  this  sudden  European  voyage. 

To  the  amazement  of  Ishmael,  he  learned  that  Mr.  Brude- 
nell  also  had  business  abroad;  therefore,  father  and  son,  as 
well  as  Judge  Merlin,  were  fellow-passengers  on  the  "Oce- 
ana," which  left  Boston  on  the  following  Wednesday,  for 
Liverpool. 

Another  of  our  friends  was  also  a  passenger — the  faithful 
Jim  Morris;  for  Ishmael  knew  what  a  treat  it  would  be  for 
the  venerable  professor  to  view  some  of  the  historic  spots 
of  the  old  world. 

'It  \uas  not  a  very  happy  group  that  met  at  breakfast  on  the 
second  morning  of  the  voyage;  for  of  the  four  friends  from 
Washington  and  its  vicinity,  only  Ishmael  seemed  cheerful 
and  vigorous.  The  other  three  were  more  or  less  suffering 
from  the  effects  of  mal-de-mer.  Toward  noon  all  three  pre- 
ferred to  remain  in  their  rooms,  under  the  care  of  attentive 
Btewards.  Threevdays  were  thus  passed  by  the  invalids,  and 
the  signs  of  recovery  were  delightfully  welcomed, 


At  Sea.  85 

When  the  voyage  was  considered  about  half  over  a  dense 
fog  arose,  and  as  this  continued  for  several  hours,  without 
any  prospect  of  its  early  dissipation,  a  nameless  dread  pre- 
vailed among  the  passengers.  No  one  could  have  told  whence 
this  dread  arose,  or  whither  it  pointed. 

Those  well  acquainted  with  the  locality  knew  that  the 
steamer  was  upon  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland,  and  that  those 
banks  were  considered  rather  unsafe  in  a  fog. 

Some  others,  who  were  in  the  secret,  also  knew  that  the 
captain  had  not  left  the  quarter-deck,  either  to  eat  or  sleep, 
for  forty-eight  hours ;  for  they  had  left  him  on  deck  at  a  late 
hour  at  night,  and  found  him  there  at  an  early  hour  of  the 
morning. 

Thus  the  passengers  on  board  the  "Oceana,"  on  the  night 
of  the  twentieth  of  December,  were  totally  ignorant  of  the 
real  nature  of  the  perils  that  beset  them,  although  an  un- 
defined misgiving  and  a  sense  of  insecurity  oppressed  their 
hearts. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  night  the  weather  was  thick,  foggy,  and 
intensely  cold,  with  a  heavy  sea  and  a  high  wind. 

The  captain  and  first  mate  were  on  deck,  where  a  number 
of  the  hardier  and  more  anxious  passengers  were  collected  to 
watch. 

In  the  dining  saloon  were  gathered  around  the  tables  those 
inveterate  gamblers  wlio  seem  to  have  no  object  either  in  the 
voyage  of  the  ocean  or  the  voyage  of  life  except  the  winning 
or  losing  of  money. 

In  the  ladies'  cabin  there  were  two  social  whist  parties 
three  of  the  players  being  the  wife  and  two  daughters  of 
Dr.  Kerr,  a  professor  in  the  University  of  Glasgow. 

They  were  playing  with  great  enjoyment,  notwithstanding 
that  little  undercurrent  of  vague  uneasiness  of  which  I  spoke, 
when  Dr.  Kerr,  who  had  been  on  deck  all  the  evening,  came 
down  into  the  cabin,  wearing  a  long  face. 

But  the  whist-players  were  too  much  interested  iu  their 
game  to  notice  the  lugubrious  expression  of  the  old  man, 
until  he  came  up  to  the  table,  and  in  a  tone  of  the  most 
alarming  gravity  exclaimed : 

"Don't  he  frightened!" 

Every  lady  dropped  her  cards  and  turned  deadly  pale  with 
terror. 

Every  gentleman  looked  up  inquiringly  at  this  judicious 
speaker. 

"What  is  there  to  be  frightened  at,  sir?"  coldly  inquired 
Ishmael. 

"Well,  you  know  our  situation —  But,  ladies,  for  heaven's 
sake,  be  composed.  Your  sex  are  noted  for  heroism  in  the 
midst  of  danger-'—--" 


86  At  Sea. 

Here,  to  jjrove  his  words  good,  one  of  the  ladies  shrieked, 
fell  back  in  her  chair,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"These  ladies  are  not  aware  of  any  danger,  sir  and  1  think 
it  quite  needless  to  alarm  them,"  said  Ishmael,  gravely. 

"My  good  young  friend,  I  don't  tvish  to  alarm  them;  I 
came  down  here  on  purpose  to  exhort  them  to  coolness  and 
self-possession,  so  necessary  in  the  hour  of  peril.  Now,  dear 
ladies,  I  mnst  beg  that  you  will  not  suffer  yourselves  to  be 
agitated." 

"There  is  really,  sir,  no  present  cause  for  agitation,  except, 
if  you  will  pardon  me  for  saying  it,  your  own  needlessly 
alarming  words  and  manner,"  said  Ishmael  cheerfully,  to  re- 
assure the  frightened  women,  who  seemed  upon  the  very 
verge  of  hysterics. 

"No,  no,  no,  certainly  no  cause  for  agitation,  ladies-— cer- 
tainly not.  Therefore  don't  be  agitated,  I  beg  of  you.  But 
— but — but  don't  undress  and  go  to  bed  to-night!  Lie  down 
on  the  outside  of  your  berths  just  as  you  are,  for  look  you— 
we  may  all  have  to  take  to  the  life-boats  at  a  minute's  warn- 
ing!" said  the  doctor,  his  pale  face  looking  paler  than  ever 
under  a  round,  black  skull  cap. 

A  half -smothered  shriek  burst  simultaneously  from  all  the 
women  present. 

"I  trust,  sir,  that  your  fears  are  entirely  gromidless.  I 
have  heard  no  apprehensions  expressed  in  any  other  quarter," 
said  Ishmael.  And  although  he  never  begged  the  ladies  not 
to  be  "frightened,"  yet  every  chearful  word  he  spoke  tended 
to  calm  their  fears. 

"What  cause  have  you  for  such  forebodings,  doctor?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Brudenell. 

"Oh,  none  at  all,  sir!  There  is  no  reason  to  be  alarmed. 
I  hope  nobody  will  be  alarmed,  especially  the  ladies*  But 
you  see,  the  captain  has  not  been  able  to  make  an  observation 
for  the  last  three  days  on  account  of  the  fog;  and  it  is  said 
that  no  one  accurately  knows  just  where  we  are;  except  that 
we  are  on  the  Banks,  somewhere,  and  may  strike  before  we 
know  it.  That  is  all.  Now,  don't  be  terrified!  And  don't 
lose  your  presence  of  mind!  And  whatever  you  do,  don't 
take  off  your  clothes;  for  if  we  strike  you  mayn't  have  time 
to  put  them  on  again,  and  scanty  raiment,  in  an  open  boat, 
on  a  wintry  night  at  sea,  wouldn't  be  pleasant.  Now,  mind 
what  I  tell  you !  I  shall  not  turn  in  myself.  I  am  going  up 
on  deck  to  watch." 

And  haviixg  succeeded  in  spreading  a  panic  among  the 
women,  the  old  man  took  himself  and  his  black  skull  cap  out 
of  the  cabin. 

Exclamations  of  surprise,  fear  and  horror  followed  his  de- 
parture. 


At  Sea.  87 

There  was  no  Biore  card-playing;  they  did  not  even  finish 
their  game;  they  felt  it  to  be  siicrilegious  to  engage  in  even 
a  "ladies'  game"  of  whist,  on  the  eve  of  possible  shipwreck, 
perhaps  on  the  brink  of  eternity ! 

Ishmael  gathered  up  and  put  away  the  cards  and  set  him- 
self earnestly  to  calm  the  fears  of  his  trembling  fellow-pas- 
sengers ;  but  they  were  not  to  be  soothed.  Then  he  offered  to 
go  up  on  deck  and  make  inquiries  as  to  the  situation,  course 
and  prospects  of  the  ship;  but  they  would  not  consent  to  his 
leaving  them;  they  earnestly  besought  him  to  stay;  and  de-- 
clared  that  they  found  assurance  and  com-fort  in  his  presence. 

At  length  he  took  the  Bible  and  seated  himself  at  the  table, 
and  read  to  them  such  portions  as  were  suited  to  their  con- 
dition. He  read  for  more  than  an  hour,  and  then,  hoping 
that  this  had  composed  their  spirits,  he  closed  the  book  and 
counseled  them  to  retire  and  take  some  rest ;  and  promised 
to  station  himself  outside  the  cabin  door  and  be  their  xigilant 
sentinel  to  warn  them  of  danger  the  instant  it  should  become 
necessary. 

But  no !  they  each  and  all  declared  sleep  to  be  impossible 
under  the  circumstances.  And  they  continued  to  sit  around 
the  table  with  .their  arms  laid  on  its  top  and  their  heads  bur- 
ied in  them,  waiting  for — what  ?    Who  could  tell  ? 

Meanwhile  the  ship  was  borne  swiftly  on  by  wind  and 
wave — whither  ?    None  of  these  frightened  women  knew ! 

Eight  bells  struck — twelve,  midnight;  and  Ishmael  re- 
nev/ed  his  entreaties  that  they  would  take  some  repose.  But 
in  vain;  for  they  declared  that  there  could  be  no  repose  for 
their  bodies  while  their  minds  were  suffering  such  intense 
anxiety. 

One  bell  struck,  and  there  they  sat;  two  bells,  and  there 
they  still  sat;  and  there  was  but  little  conversation  after  this. 
Thi'ee  bells  struck,  and  they  sat  on,  so  motionless  that  Ish- 
mael hoped  they  had  fallen  asleep  on  their  watch  and  he  re- 
frained from  addressing  them.  Four  bells  struck.  It  was 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  dead  silence  reigned  in  the 
ladies'  cabin.    Every  one  except  Ishmael  had  gone  to  sleep. 

Suddenly  through  the  stillness  a  cry  rang — a  joyous  cry  I 
It  was  the  voice  of  the  man  on  the  lookout,  and  it  shouted 
''orth : 

"Land  ho  !" 

''Where  away 9"  called  another  voice. 

"On  her  lee  how!" 

"What  do  you  malce  of  itf 

"Cape  Safety  Light-HoiLsen 

A  shout  went  up  from  the  passengers  on  deck !  A  simul- 
jtneous,  involuntaix  joyous  three  times  three  I 

"Hurrah  1    Hurrah!!    Hurrah  HI" 


88  At  Sea. 

A  devoat  thanksgiving  ascended  from  IshinaeFs  heart. 

"Thank  God!"  he  fervently  exclaimed. 

It  was  indeed  an  infinite  relief. 

Then  he  turned  to  wake  up  his  wearied  fellow-passengers, 
who  had  fallen  asleep  in  such  uneasy  attitudes — arras  folded 
on  the  top  of  the  table  and  heads  fallen  on  the  folded  arms. 

"Ladies!  dear  ladies!  dear  Mrs.  Kerr!  you  may  retire  to 
rest  now !  We  have  made  Cape  Safety,"  he  said,  going  from 
one  to  another  and  gently  rousing  them. 

They  were  a  little  bewildered  at  first ;  and  while  they  were 
still  trying  to  understand  what  Ishmael  was  saying,  the 
Scotch  professor  burst  into  the  cabin  and  enlightened  them 
by  a  coup-de-main. 

"You  may  all  undress  and  go  to  bed  now,  and  sleep  in 
peace,  without  the  least  fear  of  a  shipwreck." 

"Eh !  pa !  is  it  so  ?  are  we  safe  ?"   cried  the  elder  daughter. 

"Safe  at  St.  Paul's !  We  know  where  we  are  now !  We 
have  made  Cape  Safety  Light-House!  Go  to  bed  and  sleep 
easy !  I'm  going  now !  Come  along,  Jeanie !"  said  the  doctor 
to  his  old  wife. 

"Not  until  I  have  shaken  hands  with  this  good  young  gen- 
tleman! I  don't  know  what  would  have  come  to  us,  doctor, 
after  you  frightened  us  so  badly,  if  it  had  not  been  for  him. 
He  stayed  with  us  and  kept  up  our  hearts!  God  bless  you, 
young  sir !"  said  Mrs.  Dr.  Kerr,  fervently,  pressing  Ishmael's 
hands. 

Ishmael  himself  was  glad  to  go  to  rest;  so  he  only  stopped 
long  enough  to  bid  good-night  to  Judge  Merlin  and  Mr. 
Brudenell,  who  had  just  awakened  to  a  sense  of  security,  and 
then  he  went  to  his  stateroom  and  "turned  in." 

Thoroughly  wearied  in  mind  and  body,  he  had  no  sooner 
touched  his  pillow  than  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep — a  sleep 
that  annihilated  several  hours  of  time. 

He  slept  until  he  was  roused  by  a  tremendous  shock! — a 
shock  that  threw  him — strong,  heavy,  athletic  man  as  he  was 
— from  his  stateroom  berth  to  his  cabin-floor !  He  was  on  his 
feet  in  a  moment,  though  stunned,  confused  and  amazed. 

The  poor  ship  was  shuddering  through  her  whole  frame 
like  a  living  creature  in  the  agony  of  death ! 

Men  who  had  been  violently  thrown  from  their  berths  to 
the  floor,  were  everywhere  picking  themselves  up  and  trying 
to  collect  their  scattered  senses. 

Crowds  were  hurrying  from  the  cabins  and  saloons  to  the 
deck. 

The  voices  of  the  oflQcers  were  heard  in  quick,  anxious,  per- 
emptory orders ;  and  those  of  tiae  crew  in  prompt,  eager,  ter- 
rified responses. 

A.nd  through  all  came  shrieks  of  terror,  anguish  and  de» 
£pair. 


At  Sea.  89 

*'The  ship  has  struck !"  "We  are  lost !"  "God  have  mercy  1" 
were  the  cries. 

Ishmael  hurried  on  his  clothes  and  rushed  to  the  deck. 

Here  all  was  panic,  confusion  and  unutterable  distress ! 

The  fog  had  cleared  away;  day  was  dawning;  and  there 
was  just  light  enough  to  show  them  the  utter  hopelessness  of 
their  position. 

The  steamer  had  struck  a  rock,  and  with  such  tremendous 
force  that  she  was  already  parting  amidships;  her  bows  were 
already  under  water  and  the  sea  was  breaking  over  her  with 
fearful  force! 

How  had  this  happened,  with  the  light-house  ahead?  Was 
it  really  a  light-house,  or  was  it  a  false  beacon? 

No  one  could  tell ;  no  one  had  time  to  ask. 

Everybody  was  fast  crowding  to  the  stern  of  the  ship,  the 
only  part  of  her  that  was  out  of  water.  Some  crawled  up, 
half  drowned ;  some  dripping  wet ;  some  scarcely  yet  awake, 
acting  upon  the  blind  impulse  of  self-preservation. 

Two  of  the  life-boats  had  been  forcibly  reft  away  from 
the  side  of  the  ship  by  the  violence  of  the  shock  and  carried 
off  by  the  sea.  Only  two  remained,  and  it  was  nearly  certain 
that  they  were  not  of  sufficient  capacity  to  save  the  crew  and 
passengers. 

But  the  danger  was  imminent!  a  mcment's  delay  might 
be  fatal  to  all  on  board  the  wreck;  not  an  instant  was  to  bo 
lost! 

The  order  was  quickly  given: 

"Get  out  the  life-boats !" 

And  the  sailors  sprang  to  obey. 

At  this  moment  another  fatality  threatened  the  doomed 
crew — it  was  what  might  have  been  expected — the  steerage 
passengers,  mostly  a  low  and  brutalized  order  of  men,  in 
whom  the  mere  animal  instinct  of  love  of  life  and  fear  of 
death  was  predominant  over  every  nobler  emotion,  came  rush- 
ing in  a  body  up  the  deck,  and  crying  with  one  voice: 

"To  the  life-boats !  to  the  life-boats !  Let  us  seize  the  life- 
boats, and  save  ourselves!" 

Every  one  else  was  panic-stricken  I  It  is  in  crises  like  this 
that  the  true  hero  is  developed. 

With  the  bound  of  a  young  Achilles,  Ishmael  seized  a 
heavy  iron  bar  and  sprang  to  the  starboard  gangway,  where 
the  two  remaining  boats  were  still  suspended;  and  standing 
at  bay,  with  limbs  apart,  and  eyes  threatening,  and  his  fearful 
weapon  raised  in  his  right  hand,  he  thundered  forth : 

"Who  tries  to  pass  here  dies  that  instant!     Stand  off!"_ 
'Before  this  young  hero  the  crowd  of  senseless,  rushing 
brutes  recoiled  as  from  a  fire! 

He  pursued  and  secured  his  victory  with  a  few  words. 

"  ir©  you  men  ?   If  so,  before  all,  let  helpless  childhood,  and 


^o  At  Sea. 

feeble  womanhood  and  venerable  age  be  saved!  and  then 
you !  I  demand  of  you  no  more  than  I  am  willing'  to  do  my- 
self!  /  will  be  the  last  to  leave  the  wreck!  I  will  see  you 
all  in  safety  before  I  attempt  to  save  my  own  life  I" 

So  great  is  the  power  of  heroism  over  all,  that  even  these 
brutal  men,  so  selfish,  senseless  and  impetuous  a  moment 
before,  were  now  subdued!  nay,  some  of  them  were  inspired 
and  raised  a  hurrah! 

Fear  of  a  possible  reaction  among  the  steerage  passengers, 
however,  caused  Judge  Merlin,  !Mr.  Brudenell,  Doctor  Kerr, 
Captain  Mountz  (an  old  sailor,  who  was  on  a  pleasure  trip). 
ai:d  several  others  to  come  to  the  support  of  Ishmael. 

Among  the  rest  the  captain  of  the  steamer  came. 

"Young  man,  you  have  saved  all  our  lives,"  he  said. 

I?hmael  bowed  liis  head. 

"I  hope  that  God  has  saved  you  all,"  he  answered. 

The  sailors  were  now  busy  getting  down  the  life-boats.  It 
was  but  the  work  of  a  very  few  minutes. 

"Let  the  ladies  and  children  be  brought  forward !"  ordered 
the  captain.  And  the  women  and  children,  some  screaming, 
some  weeping,  and  some  dumb  with  terror,  wei'e  lowered  into 
one  of  the  boats. 

"IsTow,  the  nearest  male  relatives  of  these  ladies  to  the 
same  boat,"  was  the  captain's  next  order. 

And  Doctor  Kerr  and  about  a  dozen  other  gentlemen  pre- 
sented themselves,  and  were  lowered  into  the  boat,  where  they 
were  received  with  hysterical  cries  of  mingled  joy  and  fear 
by  the  women. 

And  all  this  time  the  sea  was  dashing  fearfully  over  the 
wreck,  and  at  every  interval  the  planks  of  the  deck  upon 
which  they  clung  were  felt  to  swell  and  sway  as  if  they  were 
about  to  part. 

"Xow  the  old  men !"  shouted  the  captain. 

Ishmael  took  Judge  Jlerlin  by  the  arm,  and  with  gentle 
coercion  passed  him  on  to  the  sailors,  who  lowered  him  into 
the  boat. 

Then  Captain  Mountz  and  several  other  old  men,  and  many 
who  were  not  old,  bvit  were  willing  to  appear  so  "for  this  oc- 
casion only,"  followed  and  were  passed  down  into  the  boat. 

Then  Ishmael  looked  around  in  concern.  The  professor 
was  lingering  in  the  background. 

"Come  here,  Morris!  You  certainly  fall  under  the  head  of 
*old  men'!"  he  said,  taking  the  professor  by  the  elbow,  and 
gently  pushing  him  forward. 

"No,  young  Ishmael !  no !  I  cannot  go !  The  boat  is  as  full 
as  it  can  be  packed  now!  or  at  least  it  won't  hold  more  than 
one  more!  and  you  ought  to  go!  and  I  will  not  crowd  you 
out,"  urged  the  old  man,  with  passionate  earnestness. 


At  Sea.  91 

And  all  this  time  the  sea  was  thundering  over  the  wreclf 
and  entirely  drenching  everybody,  and  nearly  drowning  some. 

"Morris,  I  shall  not  in  any  case  enter  that  boat!  There  is 
no  time,  when  scores  of  lives  are  in  imminent  danger,  to 
argue  the  point.  But — as  you  never  disobeyed  me  in  your 
life,  before,  I  now  lay  my  commands  on  you  to  go  into  that 
boatl"  said  Ishmael,  with  the  tone  and  manner  of  a  mon- 
arch. 

With  a  cry  of  despair  the  professor  let  himself  drop  into 
the  life-boat  to  be  saved. 

The  boat  was  now  really  as  full  as  it  could  possibly  be 
crammed,  with  safety  to  its  passengers.  And  it  was  detained 
only  until  a  cask  of  fresh  water  and  a  keg  of  biscuit  could 
be  thrown  into  it,  and  then  it  gave  way  to  make  room  for  the 
second  life-boat  to  come  up  to  the  gangway. 

This  second  boat  was  rapidly  filled.  But  when  it  was 
crowded  quite  full  there  remained  upon  the  breaking  wreck 
Ishmael  and  ten  of  the  younger  steerage  passengers. 

"Come!  come!"  shouted  the  captain  of  the  steamer,  who 
was  in  the  second  boat.  "Oome,  Mr.  Worth !  There  is  room 
for  one  more  I    There  is  always  room  for  one  more !" 

"If  there  is  room  for  one  more,  take  one  of  these  young 
men,  my  companions,"  replied  Ishmael,  gravely. 

""No !  no !  if  we  cannot  take  all.  why  take  one  of  their  num- 
ber, instead  of  taking  you,  Mr.  Worth  ?  Come  I  come !  do  not 
keep  us  here !    It  is  dangerous !"  urged  the  captain. 

"Pass  on !    I  remain  here !"  answered  Ishmael,  steadfastly. 

"But  that  is  madness!  What  good  will  it  do?  Come, 
quick !  climb  up  on  the  bulwarks  and  leap  down  into  the  boat ! 
You  are  young  and  active,  and  can  do  it!  quick!" 

"Give  way!  I  shall  remain  here!"  replied  Ishmael,  fold- 
ing his  arms  and  planting  himself  firmly  on  the  quaking 
deck,  over  which  the  sea  incessantly  thundered. 

"Ishmael!  Ishmael!  my  son!  my  son!  for  heaven's  sake! 
for  my  sake,  come!"  cried  Mr.  Brudenell,  holding  out  his 
arms  in  an  agony  of  prayer. 

"Father !"  replied  the  young  man,  in  this  supreme  moment 
of  fate  not  refusing  him  that  paternal  title— "Father !"  lie  re- 
peated, with  impassioned  fervor — "Father,  every  one  of  these 
men  have  precedence  of  me,  in  the  right  to  be  saved!  For 
when  I  intervened  between  them  and  the  life-boats  they  were 
about  to  seize,  I  promised  them  that  I  would  see  every  one  of 
them  in  safety  before  attempting  to  save  myself.  I  prom- 
ised them  that  I  would  be  the  very  last  man  to  leave  the 
wreck!  Father!  they  confided  in  me,  and  I  will  keep  my 
word  with  them." 

"But  you  cannot  save  their  lives!"  cried  Mr.  Brudenell, 
with  a  gesture  of  desperation. 


92  At  Sea. 

"I  can  keep  my  word  by  staying  with  them,"  was  the  firm 
reply. 

While  Ishmael  spoke  there  was  a  rapid  consultation  going 
on  among  his  companions  on  the  wreck. 

Then  one  of  them  spoke  for  the  rest: 

"Go  and  save  yourself,  young  gentleman!  We  give  you 
back  your  promise." 

Ishmael  turned  and  smiled  upon  them  with  benignity  as 
he  replied  sweetly: 

"I  thank  you,  my  friends !  I  thank  you  earnestly  I  You 
are  brave  and  generous  men!  But  from  such  a  pledge  as  I 
have  given,  you  have  no  power  to  release  me." 

''Ishmael!  Ishmael!  for  Bee's  sake!"  cried  Judge  Merlin, 
stretching  his  arms  imploringly  toward  the  young  man.  "For 
Bee's  sake,  Ishmael !    Think  of  Bee!" 

"0^,  /  do!  I  do  think  of  her!"  said  the  young  man,  in  a 
voice  of  impassioned  grief.  "God  bless  her!  God  forever 
bless  her!  But  not  even  for  her  dear  sake  must  I  shrink 
from  duty!  I  honor  her  too  much  to  live  to  offer  her  the 
dishonored  hand  of  a  craven!  Tell  her  this!  and  tell  her 
that  my  last  earthly  thought  was  hers!  We  shall  meet  in 
eternity !" 

"Ishmael!  Ishmael!"  simultaneously  cried  Judge  Merlin 
and  Mr.  Brudenell,  as  they  saw  a  tremendous  sea  break  in, 
thunder  over  the  wreck,  which  was  instantly  whirled  violent- 
ly around  as  in  the  vortex  of  a  maelstrom. 

"Give  way!  give  way!  quick!  for  your  lives!  The  wreck 
is  going  and  she  will  draw  down  the  boats !"  shouted  Ishmael, 
waving  his  arm  from  the  whirling  deck. 

The  sailors  on  board  the  life-boats  laid  themselves  vigor- 
ously to  their  oars,  and  rowed  them  swiftly  away  from  the 
whirling  eddy  around  the  settling  wreck.  The  passengers  on 
board  the  boats  averted  their  heads  or  veiled  their  eyes — they 
could  not  look  upon  the  death  of  Islimael ! 

But  as  the  boats  bounded  away,  something  leaped  from  one 
of  them  with  the  heavy  plunge  of  a  large  dog  into  the  water, 
and  the  next  instant  the  old  gray  head  of  Jim  Morris  was 
seen  rising  from  the  foaming  waves.  He  struggled  toward 
the  deck,  clambered  up  its  sides  and  sank  at  Ishmael's  feet, 
embracing  his  knees,  weeping  and  crying: 

"Young  Ishmael!  master!  master!  Oh!  let  me  die  with 
you!" 

Speechless  from  profound  emotion,  Ishmael  stooped  and 
raised  the  old  man  and  clasped  him  to  his  bosom  with  one 
arm,  while  with  the  other  he  waved  adieu  to  the  rapidly  re- 
ceding life-b^ats. 


A  Discovery.  |)3 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A   DISCOVERY. 

We  must  return  to  Claudia,  and  to  that  evening  wlien  sha 
was  accosted  by  Katie  on  the  stairs. 

On  that  occasion  Claudia  went  down  to  dinner  without 
feeling  the  least  anxiety  on  the  subject  of  Katie's  promised 
communication.  She  supposed,  when  she  thought  of  it  at 
all,  that  it  was  some  such  idle  rumor  as  frequently  arose 
concerning  the  discovery  of  some  suspected  person  implicated 
in  the  murder  of  Ailsie  Dunbar. 

The  dinner  that  evening  happened  to  be  more  protracted 
than  usual. 

And  when  they  arose  from  the  table  Mrs.  DugaM,  con- 
trary to  her  custom,  immediately  retired  to  her  private  apart- 
ments. 

Claudia' was  also  about  to  withdraw,  when  the  viscount  said 
to  her: 

"Excuse  me,  Lady  Vincent ;  but  I  must  request  the  favor  of 
a  few  moments*  conversation  with  you." 

''Very  well,  my  lord,"  answered  Claudia,  bowing  coldly. 

He  led  the  way  to  the  drawing-room  and  Claudia  followed. 

Coffee  was  abeady  served  there,  and  Cuthbert,  an  old  ser- 
vant, was  in  attendance  to  hand  it  around. 

"You  may  go,  Cuthbert.  We  can  wait  on  ourselves,"  said 
Lord  Vincent,  as  he  led  his  wife  to  a  seat  and  took  one  for 
himself  near  her. 

When  the  servant  had  left  the  room  the  viscount  turned  to 
Claudia  and  said: 

"Lady  Vincent,  I  have  been  obliged  to  solicit  this  interview 
because  I  have  much  to  say  to  you,  while  you  give  me  very 
few  opportunities  of  saying  anything." 

Claudia  bowed  a  cold  assent  and  remained  silent. 

"It  is  of  Mrs.  Dugald  that  I  wish  to  speak  to  you." 

"I  am  listening,  my  lord,"  replied  Claudia,  haughtily. 

"Lady  Vincent,  this  arrogant  manner  toward  me  will  not 
serve  any  good  purpose.  However,  it  is  not  on  my  own  score 
that  I  came  to  complain,  but  on  Mrs.  Dugald's;  that  lady's 
position  in  this  house  is  a  very  delicate  one." 

"So  delicate,  my  lord,  that  I  think  the  sooner  she  with- 
draws from  it  the  better  it  will  be." 

"You  do!  It  is  to  that  end,  then,  I  presume,  that  you 
have  treated  her  with  so  much  scorn  and  contempt?"  «;aid 
bis  lordship,  angrily. 


94  A  Discovery. 

"My  lord,  with  all  my  faults,  I  am  no  hypocrite ;  and  with 
all  my  accomplishments,  I  am  no  actress." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  my  lady  ?" 

"I  mean  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  treat  your — sister-in- 
laiv — with  the  respect  that  I  could  not  feel  for  her,"  replied 
Claudia,  with  disdain. 

"K 0,  madam !"  exclaimed  Lord  Vincent,  turning  pale  with 
rage.  "You  have  treated  that  lady  with  the  utmost  con- 
tumely. And  I  have  demanded  this  interview  with  you  for 
the  express  purpose  of  telling  you  that  I  will  not  submit  to 
have  the  widow  of  my  brother  treated  with  disrespect  in  my 
own  house  and  by  my  own  wife!" 

Claudia  arose  with  great  dignity  and  answered: 

"My  lord,  since  you  desired  this  interview  for  the  purpose 
of  expressing  your  wishes  upon  this  point;  and,  since  you 
Jiave  expressed  them,  I  presume  the  object  of  our  meeting 
has  been  accomplished  and  I  am  at  liberty  to  withdraw. 
Good-night." 

"Not  so  fast !  not  so  fast !  Lady  "Vincent !  I  have  not  done 
with  you  yet,  my  lady!  Mrs.  Dugald  must  and  shall  be 
treated  by  you,  as  well  as  by  others,  with  the  courtesy  and 
consideration  due  to  her  rank  and  position.  .Many  abuses 
must  be  reformed.  And  among  them  is  this  one — your  con- 
stant refusal  to  appear  in  public  with  her.  Ever  since  your 
arrival  here  Mrs.  Dugald  has  been  a  prisoner  in  the  house, 
because  she  cannot  go  out  alone;  and  she  will  not  go  out 
attended  by  me  unless  you  are  also  of  the  party,  for  fear 
evil-minded  people  will  talk." 

Claudia's  beautiful  lip  curled  with  scorn  as  she  answered: 

"Mrs.  Dugald's  scruples  do  credit  to  her — powers  of  du- 
plicity." 

"You  wrong  her !  You  always  wrong  her !  but,  by  my  soul, 
you  shall  not  continue  to  do  so !  Listen,  Lady  Vincent !  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Dean,  the  celebrated  tragedians,  are  playing  a  short 
engagement  at  Banff.  Mrs.  Dugald  and  myself  wish  to  go 
and  see  them.  It  will  be  proper  for  you  to  be  of  the  party. 
I  desire  that  you  will  be  prepared  to  go  with  us  to-morrow 
evening." 

Claudia's  face  flushed  crimson  with  indignation. 

"Excuse  me,  my  lord.  I  cannot  possibly  appear  anywhere 
in  public  with  Mrs.  Dugald,"  she  haughtily  replied. 

"If  you  fail  to  go  with  us,  you  will  rue  your  scorn  in 
every  vein  of  your  heart,  my  lady.  However,  I  will  not  take 
your  final  answer  to-night;  I  will  give  you  another  chance 
in  the  morning.  Au  revoir!"  he  said,  with  an  insulting  laugh, 
as  he  lounged  out  of  the  room. 

Claudia  remained  where  he  had  left  her,  transfixed  with 
indignation,  for  a  few  minutes.  And  then  she  began  to 
Sralk  up  and  down  the  room  to  exhaust  her  excitement  before 


A  Discovery.  95 

going  up-stairs  to  her  dressing-rooin,  where  sue  supposed  that 
Katie  was  awaiting  her. 

She  walked  up  and  down  the  floor  some  fifteen  or  twenty 
minutes,  and  then  left  the  saloon  and  sought  her  ovn  apart- 
ments. 

She  had  but  just  reached  the  landing  of  the  second  floor, 
on  which  her  rooms  were  situated,  v/hen  she  was  startled  by 
a  low,  half-suppressed  cry  of — 

''Murd "  _  _ 

Which  was  quickly  stopped,  and  immediately  followed  by  a 
muffled  fall  and  a  low  scuffling,  and  the  voice  of  Lord  Vin." 
cent  muttering  vehemently. 

"Faustina!" 

And  other  words  inaudible  to  the  hearer. 

"Ah!  they  are  quarreling  as  usual!"  said  Claudia  to  her- 
self, with  a  scornful  smile,  as  she  crossed  the  hall  and  entered 
her  own  suite  of  apartments. 

"I  have  kept  you  waiting,  Katie;  but  I  could  not  help  it, 
my  good  woman/'  she  said,  cheerfully,  as  she  entered  her 
dressing-room. 

But  there  was  no  reply. 

She  looked  around  her  in  surprise. 

Katie  was  nowhere  to  be  seen;  the  room  was  empty.  The 
lamp  was  burning  dimly  and  the  fire  was  smouldering  out. 

Claudia  raised  the  light  of  the  lamp,  and,  seating  herself 
in  her  easy-chair  before  the  fire,  stirred  the  coals  into  a  blaze 
and  began  to  warm  her  feet  and  hands. 

"The  old  creature  has  grown  weary  of  waiting,  I  suppose, 
and  has  gone  down  to  her  supper,"  she  said  to  herself.  And 
she  sat  waiting  patiently  for  some  time  before  she  rang  her 
bell. 

Sally  answered  it. 

"Go  down,  Sally,  and  tell  Katie  that  I  am  here  and  ready 
to  see  her  now,"  said  Lady  Vincent. 

Sally  went  on  this  errand,  but  soon  returned  and  said: 

"If  you  please,  ma'am,  Aunt  Katie  ain't  nowhere  down- 
stairs.    I  'spects  she's  done  gone  to  bed." 

Claudia  suddenly  looked  up  to  the  ormolu  clock  that  stood 
upon  the  mantel-shelf. 

"Why,  yes!"  she  said,  "it  is  nearly  eleven  o'clock.  I  had 
no  idea  that  it  was  so  late.    Of  course  she  has  gone  to  bed." 

"Mus'  I  go  call  her  up,  ma'am?"     , 

'TsTo,  Sally;  certainly  not.  But  there  was  something  that 
she  said  she  had  to  tell  me.  Something,  I  fancy,  it  was  about 
the  murder  of  that  poor  girl.  Has  anything  new  been  dis- 
covered in  relation  to  that  affair,  do  you  know?" 

"No,  ma'am,  not  as  I  have  hearn.  'Deed,  it  was  only  jes* 
now  we  was  all  a  talking  about  it  in  de  servants'  hall,  and 
Mr.  Frisbie  he  was  a  mentioning  how  inistreerious  it  was,  aa 


96  A  Discovery.  '» 

we  could  Hear  nothing.  And  jes  then  your  bell  rung,  ma^anS 
and  I  came  away," 

"Well,  Sally,  you  must  help  me  to  disrobe,  and  then  you 
may  go." 

The  waiting  maid  did  her  duty  and  retired. 

And  Claudia,  wrapped  in  her  soft  dressing  gown  and 
seated  in  her  easy-chair  before  the  glowing  fire,  gave  herself 
up  to  thought. 

She  was  thinking  of  her  meeting  with  Katie  on  the  stairs. 
Since  it  was  no  new  rumor  connected  with  the  murder,  she 
was  wondering  what  could  be  the  nature  of  the  communica- 
tion Katie  had  to  make  to  her.  She  recalled  the  anxious, 
frightened,  indignant  countenance  of  the  old  woman,  and  in 
her  memory  that  expression  seemed  to  have  a  more  signifi- 
cant meaning  than  it  had  had  to  her  careless  eyes  at  the  time 
of  seeing  it. 

^Vhat  could  it  be  that  Katie  had  to  tell  her?  Of  course 
Claudia  did  not  know;  she  soon  gave  up  trying  to  conjec- 
ture; but  felt  impatient  for  the  morning,  when  the  mystery 
should  be  revealed. 

Other  anxious  thoughts  also  troubled  her;  thoughts  of 
the  dangers  to  which  she  was  exposed  from  the  hatred  of  Lord 
Vincent,  the  jealousy  of  Mrs.  Dugald;  and  the  depravity  of 
both; — thoughts  of  her  father's  long  and  strange  silence; — • 
thoughts  of  the  insult  she  had  received  that  evening  in  being 
commanded  to  chaperone  Mrs.  Dugald  to  the  theatre; — ■ 
thoughts  of  the  mysterious  sounds  she  had  heard  from  Mrs. 
Dugald's  room,  and  which  she  was  so  far  from  connecting 
with  any  idea  of  Katie  that  she  attributed  them  solely  to  a 
quarrel  between  her  two  precious  companions : — and  lastly, 
the  ever-recurring  thoughts  of  that  mysterious  discovery 
which  old  Katie  had  made,  and  which  she  was  so  eager  to 
impart  to  her  lady.  Ever  Claudia's  thoughts,  traveling  in  a 
circle,  came  back  to  this  point. 

Wearied  with  fruitless  speculation,  she  still  sat  on,  watch- 
ing the  decaying  fire  and  listening  to  the  thunder  of  the  sea 
as  it  broke  upon  the  rocks  at  the  base  of  the  castle.  At  length 
she  got  up,  drew  aside  the  heavy  window  curtains,  opened 
the  strong  oaken  shutters  and  looked  out  upon  the  expanse 
of  the  gray  and  dreary  sea,  dimly  visible  under  the  cloudy 
midnight  sky. 

At  last  she  closed  the  window  and  went  to  bed.  But  she 
could  not  sleep.  She  lay  wakeful,  restless,  anxious,  through 
the  long  hours  of  the  middle  night,  and  through  the  gray 
dawn  of  morning  and  the  early  flush  of  day. 

A  little  before  her  usual  hour  of  rising  she  rang  the  belh 

Sally  answered  it. 

"Is  Katie  up?"  she  inquired. 

**^o,  ma'am.    Mus'  I  wake  her  V* 


A  Discovery.  97 

"Certainly  not.  Let  her  have  her  sleep  out,  poor'  crea.ture. 
And  do  you  stop  and  help  me  to  dress." 

And  so  saying,  Claudia  arose  and  made  an  elegant  morn- 
ing toilet;  for  Claudia,  like  Mary  Stuart,  would  have 
''dressed"  had  she  been  a  life-long,  hopeless  captive. 

When  her  toilet  was  made  she  directed  Sally  to  bring 
her  a  cup  of  strong  coffee;  and  when  she  had  drank  it  she 
sat  down  to  wait  with  what  patience  she  could  for  the  awak- 
ening of  old  Katie. 

Poor  Claudia,  with  all  her  faults,  was  kind  to  her  depen- 
dents and  considerate  of  their  comforts.  And  so,  anxious  as 
she  was  to  hear  the  communication  old  Katie  had  to  make  to 
her,  she  was  resolved  not  to  have  the  old  woman's  rest  broken. 

She  eat  by  the  window  of  her  dressing-room,  looking  out 
upon  the  boundless  sea  from  which  the  sun  was  rising,  and. 
over  which  a  solitary  sail  was  passing.  She  sat  there  until 
the  breakfast  bell  rang.    And  then  she  went  below. 

She  was  the  first  in  the  breakfast-room,  and  she  remained 
there  standing  before  the  fire  full  ten  minutes  before  any- 
one else  appeared. 

Lord  Vincent  was  the  next  to  come  in.  And  Claudia 
actually  started  when  she  saw  the  awful  pallor  of  his  face. 
Every  vestige  of  color  had  fled  from  it;  his  brow,  cheeks, 
and  even  lips,  were  marble  white;  his  voice  shook  in  saying 
*'good-morning',"  and  his  hand  shook  in  lifting  the  "Banff 
Beacon"  from  the  table. 

While  Claudia  was  watching  him  in  wonder  and  amaze- 
ment, there  came  a  flutter  and  a  rustle,  and  Mrs.  Dugald  en- 
tered the  room  all  brightness  and  smiles! 

She  gave  one  quick,  wistful  glance  at  the  viscount  and 
then  addressed  him  in  a  hurried,  anxious  tone,  speaking  ia 
the  Italian  language,  and  saying: 

''Rouse  yourself !  Look  not  so  like  an  aesaesin !  You  will 
bring  suspicion!" 

"Hush !"  answered  the  viscount,  with  a  quick  glance  toward 
Claudia,  which  warned  La  Faustina  that  the  American  lady 
might  be  supposed  to  understand  Italian. 

Claudia  did  understand  it  and  was  filled  with  a  vague  sense 
of  horror  and  amazement. 

They  sat  down  to  the  table.' 

Lord  Vincent  followed  Mrs.  Dugald's  advice  and  tried  to 
*'rouse"  himself.  And  after  he  had  had  two  or  three  cupa 
of  coffee  he  succeeded. 

Faustina  was  as  bright  as  a  paroquette  and  as  gay  as  a 
lark.  She  prattled  on  in  a  perpetual,  purling  stream  of  mu- 
eic.    Among  other  things  she  said : 

"And  do  we  go  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  De^^  in  'Macbeth'  t/Q" 
night,  mork  amit" 


9$  A  Discovery. 

'Tes ;  ana  Ladj  Vincent  goes  with  us,"  answered  Lora  Vin« 
cent,  emphatically. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my* lord!  I  have  already  declined  to 
do  so,"  said  Claudia,  speaking  with  forced  coolness,  though 
her  heart  was  burning,  her  cheeks  flaming,  and  her  eyes  flash- 
ing with  indignation. 

"You  will  think  better  of  it,  my  lady.  You  will  go. 
Cuthbert,  pass  the  eggs." 

**I  shall  not,  my  lord,"  replied  Claudia. 

"Why  will  you  not?    Pepper,  Cuthbert." 

"For  the  reason  that  I  gave  you  last  night  I  Your  lord- 
ship cannot  wish  me  to  repeat  it  here !" 

"Oh!  a  very  particular  reason  you  gave  me!  The  salt, 
Cuthbert,"  said  his  lordship,  coolly  breaking  the  shell  of  his 
egg. 

"A  reason,  my  lord,  that  should  be  considered  sufficiently 
satisfactory  to  relieve  me  from  impoTtxuiity  on  the  subject," 
answered  Claudia. 

"If  miladie  does  not  wish  to  go,  we  should  not  urge  her 
to  do  so,"  observed  Mrs.  Dugald,  as  she  slowly  sipped  her 
chocolate. 

"Certainly  not.  And  now  I  think  of  it,  you  can  send  over 
for  Mrs.  MacDonald  to  come  and  go  with  us.  The  old  lady 
enjoys  the  drama  excessively  and  will  be  glad  to  come.  So 
you  shall  be  sure  of  your  intellectual  treat,  Faustina." 

"That  will  be  so  nice!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dugald,  clapping 
her  hands  in  childish  glee. 

Claudia  arose  from  the  table  and  withdrew  to  her  own 
apartments. 

She  was  revolted  by  the  fulsome  manners  of  the  strange 
woman  who  shared  her  dwelling,  and  she  was  drawn  toward 
the  secret,  whatever  it  was  that  old  Katie  wished  to  impart 
to  her. 

When  she  entered  the  rooms  she  found  them  all  arranged 
tidily  by  the  neat  hands  of  Sally,  who  since  the  death  of  poor 
Ailsie  had  had  the  care  of  them. 

"Sally,  has  not  Katie  been  up  here  yet?"  inquired  Lady 
Vincent. 

"No,  ma'anv;  I  don't  think  she's  awake  yet ;  I  reckon  she's 
a  oversleepin'  of  herself.  And  I  would  a  waked  her  up,  only, 
ma'am,  you  bid  me  not  to  do  it." 

"Xobody  ain't  seen  nothing  'tall  of  her  this  morninjf, 
ma'am." 

"What !  do  j'ou  mean  to  say  that  she  has  not  yet  made  her 
appearance?"  demanded  Claudia,  in  alarm. 

"Go  to  her  room  at  once  and  see  if  she  is  ill.  She  may  be, 
you  know.  Go  in  quietly,  so  that  you  will  not  awaken  her  if 
eho  shaiili  be  asleep,"  said  Claudia,  in  alarm,  for  she  sud- 


A  Discovery.  99 

denly  remembered  that  people  of  Katie's  age  and  habit  some- 
times die  suddenly  and  are  found  dead  in  their  beds. 

Sally  went  on  her  errand,  and  Claudia  stood  waiting  and 
listening  breathlessly  until  her  return. 

"Laws,  ma'am.  Aunt  Katie's  done  got  up,  and  made  her 
bed  up  and  put  her  room  to  rights,  and  gone  down-stairs," 
said  Sally,  as  she  entered  the  room, 

"Then  go  at  once,  and  if  she  has  had  her  breakfast  send 
her  up  to  me.    Strange  she  did  not  come." 

Sally  departed  on  this  errand  also,  but  she  was  gone  longer 
than  on  the  first.  It  was  nearly  half  an  hour  before  she 
returned.     She  came  in  with  a  scared  face,  saying: 

"Ma'am,  it's  very  odd;  but  the  servants  say  as  ole  Aunt 
Katie  hasn't  been  down  this  morning." 

"Hasn't  been  down  this  morning?  And  is  not  in  her 
room,  either?"  cried  Claudia,  in  amazement. 

"No,  ma'am!"  answered  Sally,  stretching  her  big  eyes. 

Lady  Vincent  sharply  rang  the  bell. 

The  housekeeper  promptly  answered  it,  entering  the  room 
with  an  anxious  countenance. 

"Mrs.  Murdock,  is  it  true  that  my  servant  Katie  has  not 
been  seen  this  morning?" 

"Me  leddy,  she  has  nae  been  seen,  puir  auld  bodie,  sin'  last 
e'en  at  gloaming.  She  didna  come  to  supper,  though  Katie 
is  na  use  to  be  that  careless  anent  her  bit  and  sup,  neither." 

"Not  seen  since  last  evening  at  dusk !"  exclaimed  Claudia^ 
in  consternation. 

"Na,  me  leddy,  ne'er  a  bit  0'  her,  puir  bodie!" 

"Go,  Mrs.  Murdock,  and  send  the  maids  to  look  for  her 
in  every  place  about  the  castle  where  she  is  in  the  habit 
of  going.  And  send  the  men  outside  to  examine  the  prem- 
ises. She  may  be  taken  with  a  fit  somewhere,  and  die  for 
want  of  assistance,"  said  Lady  Vincent,  in  alarm. 

An  hour  passed,  the  search  for  Katie  was  prosecuted  in 
every  spot  where  she  was  likely  to  visit,  but  no  trace  of 
her  was  found.  When  this  report  was  made  to  Claudia,  by 
the  housekeeper,  the  former  exclaimed: 

"Good  heavens!  but  this  is  strange  and  very  dreadful. 
Send  Jem  up  to  me  at  once.'^ 

The  housekeeper  went  to  obey.  And  Jem  soon  stood  in  the 
presence  of  his  mistress. 

"Any  letters  from  America,  Jem  ?"  inquired  Lady  Vincent, 
anxiously,  and  for  a  moment  forgetting  poor  old  Katie's  un- 
known fate. 

"No,  my  lady,  not  one.  There  was  no  foreign  mail  in  to- 
day." 

_  "Another    disappointment !      Always    disappointments  !** 
eighed  Claudia.    And  then  reverting  to  the  subject  of  Katie's 
disappearance,  she  said: 
1 


lOO  A  Discovery. 

"What  is  this  about  you  mother,  Jem  ?  TTheii  did  you  See 
lier  last  ?    And  have  you  any  idea  where  she  can  be  gone  V* 

Jem  suddenly  burst  into  tears ;  for  he  loved  his  old  mother 
exceedingly;  and  he  sobbed  forth  the  words: 

"Oh,  my  lady!  I  am  afeared  as  somebody  has  gone  and 
made  way  with  her  as  they  did  with  poor  Ailsie!" 

"Gracious  heaven,  Jem!  what  a  horrible  idea!  and  what 
an  utterly  irrational  one.  Who  could  possibly  have  had  any 
motive  for  harming  poor  old  Katie  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  my  lady.  But,  you  see,  my  poor  mother  was 
alwaj^s  a  watching  and  a  listoiirg  about  after  his  lordship 
and  that  strange  lady.  And  I  know  they  noticed  it,  and 
maybe  they  have  done  made  way  with  mother — My  lady!  oh  I 
you  are  fainting!  You  are  dying!"'  cried  Jem,  suddenly 
breaking  off,  and  rushing  toward  his  mistress,  who  had 
^■'irned  deadly  pale,  and  fallen  back  in  her  chair. 

"No,  no!  water,  water!"  cried  Lady  Vincent,  struggling  to 
overcome  her  weakness. 

Jem  flew  and  brought  her  a  full  glass. 

She  quaffed  its  contents  eagei'ly,  and  sat  up,  and  tried  to 
collect  her  panic-stricken  faculties.  She  had  received  a  dread- 
ful shock.  Jem's  words  had  given  the  key  to  the  whole  mys- 
tery! In  one  terrible  moment  the  ghastly  truth  had  burst 
upon  her.  She  understood,  now,  the  whole.  She  could  com- 
bine the  circumstances :  Katie's  agitated  meeting  with  her  on 
the  stairs;  the  communication  which  the  poor  faithful  old 
creature  seemed  so  eager  to  make,  and  which  must  have  re- 
lated to  some  discovery  that  she  had  made!  the  mysterious 
noises  heard  in  Mrs.  Dugald's  apartments;  the  guilty  pale- 
ness of  the  viscount  at  the  breakfast  table:  the  strange  words 
spoken  in  Italian  by  Faustina;  the  mysterious  disappear- 
ance of  Katie;  all,  all  these  pointed  to  one  dreadful  deed, 
from  the  bare  thought  of  which  all  Claudia's  soul  recoiled 
in  horror. 

"Jem!"  she  gasped,  in  a  choking  voice. 

"My  lady!" 

"At  what  hour  last  evening  did  you  see  your  mother?" 

"Just  a  little  after  sunset.  The  last  dinner  bell  had  rung; 
and  I  brought  some  coal  up  to  put  on  yoiu*  ladyship's  fire, 
and  I  set  it  on  the  outside  of  the  door,  intending  to  take  it 
in  as  soon  as  your  ladyship  came  out  to  go  down  to  dinner. 
Well,  I  was  standing  there  waiting  with  the  coal,  when  I  saw 
my  lord's  door  open,  and  Mr.  Frisbie  come  out,  with  such 
a  face !  Oh,  my  lady !  I  don't  know  how  to  describe  it :  but 
it  had  a  cruel,  cowardly,  desperate  look — as  if  he  would  have 
cut  some  one's  throat  to  save  himself  a  shilling!  He  passed 
on  down-stairs  without  ever  seeing  of  me.  And  the  next 
minute  my  lord  came  out  of  the  same  room,  with- — I  beg 
ytmr  pardon,  my  lady — a  look  of  wicked  triumph  on  Mi  fac*. 


A  Discovery.  loi 

He  was  even  laughing',  like  he  had  done  soiuethiufj  that 
pleased  him.  And  he  happened  to  look  up  and  see  nie,  and 
he  growled: 

"  'What  are  you  doing  there,  fellow  V 

"And  I  bowed  down  to  the  ground  a'most,  and  answerer!: 

"  'I  liave  brought  up  coal  for  my  lady's  rooms,  my  lord.' 

"  'Very  well,'  he  said,  and  he  went  on. 

"Next  thing,  I  was  tuk  right  off  my  feet,  by  seoin;:?  of  my 
own  mother,  come  right  out'n  that  same  room.  And  she  camo 
out,  did  the  old  woman,  with  her  eyes  rolled  up  and  hei-  arms 
lifted  high,  looking  as  she  a'most  always  does  when  she  hears 
anything  dreadful ;  looking  just  for  all  the  world  as  slie  did 
the  day  she  heard  of  poor  Ailsie's  murder.  Well,  my  lady, 
1  felt  sure  as  she  had  been  a  hiding  of  herself  in  my  lord's 
Tocm,  and  had  discovered  something  horrible.  And  so  I 
•called  to  her  in  a  low  voice : 

"'Mother!' 

"But  she  shook  her  head  at  me,  and  ran  down  the  stairs, 
and  stood  waiting.  And  just  at  that  minute  your  ladyship 
came  out  of  your  room.  You  may  remember,  rny  lady,  see- 
ing her  standing  there  with  the  coal  as  you  came  out?" 

"Yes,  Jem,  I  remember,"  said  Lady  Vincent.    - 

"Well,  my  lady,  I  saw  mother  stop  you,  and  I  heard  a  whis- 
pered conversation,  in  which  she  seemed  to  beg  you  to  do 
something  that  you  hadn't  time  to  attend  to,  for  you  went 
down-stairs  and  left  her." 

"I  was  on  my  way  to  dinner,  you  remember;  but  I  bado 
Katie  go  into  my  dressing-room  and  await  me  there.  When 
I  went  up  after  dinner,  however,  I  found  that  she  had  not  fol- 
lowed my  directions.  She  was  not  in  my  apartments,  nor 
have  I  seen  her  since!" 

"I  beg  pardon,  my  lady;  but,  indeed,  poor  mother  did  obey 
your  ladyship.  She  came  up  stairs  again,  and  she  took  the 
coal  hod  out'n  my  hands,  and  said — said  she : 

"  'You  go  right  straight  down-stairs,  Jem,  and  I'll  tend  to 
my  ladyship's  fires  myself.'     And  I  said: 

"'Mother,'  said  I,  'what's  the  matter?'  And  she  whispered 
to  me: 

"  'I  done  beam  som.ethin'  awful,  Jem ;  but  I  must  tell 
my  ladyship  before  I  tells  any  one  else.' 

"  'Was  it  about  poor  Ailsie's  death  ?'  said  I. 

"  'Worse  'an  dat,'  she  answered ;  and  then  she  went  in  and 
shut  the  door  in  my  face.  And  I  come  away.  And  that  was 
the  last  time  as  ever  I  see  my  poor,  dear  old  mother!"  ex- 
claimed Jem,  bursting  into  a  fresh  flood  of  tears. 

"Don't  despair,  Jem;  we  must  hope  for  the  best,"  replied 
Lady  Vincent.  "Compose  yourself,  boy;  and  go  and  say  to 
Lord  Vincent  that  I  request  to  see  him  in  my  boudoir.'* 


to2  A  Deep  One. 

Jem  went  out  with  a  heavy  heart  to  do  his  errand;  but  re- 
turned with  an  answer  that  Lord  Vincent  was  engaged. 

"I  will  not  be  baffled  in  this  way!"  muttered  Claudia  to 
herself.  Then  speaking  aloud,  she  inquired:  "Where  is  his 
lordship,  and  upon  what  is  he  engaged  ?" 

"He  is  sitting  in  the  library,  with  a  bottle  of  brandy  and 
a  box  of  cigars  on  the  table  by  him ;  he  is  smoking  and  drink- 
ing, my  lady!" 

"'Smoking  and  drinking'  at  twelve  o'clock  in  the  day!'* 
muttered  Claudia  to  herself,  with  a  motion  of  disgust.  Theu 
speaking  lip,  she  said:  "Go  down-stairs,  Jem,  and  assist  in 
the  searcih  fov  your  poor  mother ;  I  will  ring  when  I  want 
you/' 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

A   DEEP   ONE. 

With  a  sudden  resolution,  Claudia  arose  and  went  down- 
stairs and  into  the  library,  where  Lord  Vincent  sat  drinking 
and  smoking. 

"Lady  Vincent,  I  believe  I  sent  you  word  that  I  was  en- 
gaged,'' said  the  viscount,  as  soon  as  he  saw  her. 

"Not  very  particularly  engaged,  I  believe,  my  lord,''  said 
Claudia,  resolutely  advancing  toward  him. 

"I  Avas  smoking.  And  I  understood  that  you  disliked 
smoke!"  said  Lord  Vincent,  throwing  away  the  end  of  his 
cigar. 

"There  are  crises  in  life,  my  lord,  that  make  us  forget  such 
small  aversions.  One  such  crisis  is  at  hand  now,"  answered 
Claudia,  gravely.  "Are  you  aware.  Lord  Vincent,  that  my 
servant  Katie  has  been  missing  since  yesterday  afternoon  ?" 

"Indeed?  W^here  has  the  old  creature  taken  herself  ofF  to? 
She  has  not  eloped  with  one  of  our  canny  Scots,  has  she?" 
inquired  the  viscount,  coolly  lighting  another  cigar  and  puff- 
ing away  at  it. 

"Such  jesting,  my  lord,  is  cruelly  out  of  place!  It  has  not 
been  many  days  since  a  very  horrid  murder  was  committed 
on  these  premises.  The  murderer  has  eluded  detection.  And 
apparently  such  impunity  has  emboldened  assassins.  I  have 
tf»o  much  cause  to  fear  that  my  poor  old  servant  has  shared 
Ailsie  Dunbar's  fate!" 

Before  Claudia  had  finished  her  sentence.  Lord  Vincent 
had  dropped  his  cigar  and  was  gazing  at  her  in  ill-concealed 
terror.  • 

"What  cause  have  you  for  such  absurd  fears?  Pray,  do 
you  take  the  castle  of  my  ancestors  to  be  the  lair  of  banditti  V* 


A  Deep  One.  103 

he  demanded,  in  a  tone  of  assumed  effrontery,  but  of  real 
cowardice.  -> 

"For  something  very  like  that  indeed,  my  lord!"  answered 
Claudia,  with  a  terrible  smile. 

"I  ask  you  what  cause  have  you  for  entertaining  these  pre- 
posterous suspicions  ?" 

"First  of  all,  the  assassination  of  Ailsie  Dunbar  and  the 
successful  concealment  of  her  murderer.  Secondly,  the  mys- 
terious disappearance  of  my  servant  Katie,  just  at  a  time 
when  it  was  desirable  to  some  parties  to  get  her  out  of  the 
way,"  said  Claudia,  emphatically,  and  fixing  her  ejes  firmly 
on  the  face  of  the  viscount,  that  visibly  paled  before  her  gaze. 

"What — what  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"My  lord,  I  will  tell  you.  Yesterday  afternoon,  as  I  was 
descending  to  dinner,  old  Katie  met  me  on  the  stairs,  and 
with  a  frightened  face,  told  me  that  she  had  made  an  im- 
portant discovery  that  she  wished  to  communicate  to  me.  I 
directed  her  to  go  to  my  dressing-room  and  wait  there  until 
my  return  from  dinner,  when  I  fully  intended  to  hasten  at 
once  to  her  side  and  hear  what  she  had  to  say " 

"Some  'mare's  n?st'  of  a  new  rumor  concerning  the  mur- 
derer of  Ailsie  Dunbar,  I  suppose,"  said  the  viscount,  with 
a  feeble  attempt  to  sneer. 

"No,  my  lord,  I  rather  think  it  was  something  concerning 
my  own  safety.  But  I  never  knew ;  for  yoili  JH^y  recollect 
that  on  last  evening  your  lordship  detained  me  in  conversa- 
tion some  time  after  dinner.  When  I  went  to  my  dressing- 
room  Katie  was  not  there.  I  thought  she  had  grown  sleepy 
and  gone  to  bed.  And  so  I  felt  no  anxiety  on  that  score. 
But  this  morning,  my  lord,  she  is  missing !  Bh©  £s  nowhere 
to  be  found!" 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  she  has  gone  visiting  some  of  the  country 
people  with  whom  she  has  picked  acquaintance.  She  will 
turn  up  all  right  by-and-by." 

"I  fear  not,  my  lord." 

"Why  do  you  'fear  not  V  " 

"Because  there  are  other  very  suspicious  circumstances 
connected  with  the  disappearance  of  Katie,  that,  since  her 
vanishment,  have  recurred  to  my  memory,  or  been  brought 
to  my  knowledge." 

"Pray,  may  one  ask  without  indiscretion  what  those  sus- 
picious circumstances  are?" 

"Certainly,  my  lord;  it  was  to  report  them  that  I  came 
here.  First,  then,  last  evening  on  my  return  toward  my  own 
room,  I  was  a  little  startled  by  hearing  a  scream  quickly 
Smothered,  and  then  a  fall  and  a  scuffling,  soon  silenced. 
These  sounds  came  from  tlie  apartment  of  Mrs.  Dugald " 

"The  demon!"  burst  involmitarily  from  the  un^arded  lips 
of  Lord  Vincent. 


194  A  Deep  One. 

Claudia  h»«rd,  l»»t,  ••utianed  t»  sp«olt  as  l^ugh  she  hr.A 
not  htard: 

"I  caught  one  single  word  of  the  conversation  that  en- 
sued. It  was — 'Fausiinar  and  it  was  yovr  voice  that  ut- 
tered it!  I  therefore  supposed  at  the  time,  my  lord,  that  you 
were  only  having  one  of  your  customary  slight  misunder- 
standings with  your — sister-in-law." 

"Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  that  was  it.  She  was  jrufFerinf,'  from. 
an  attack  of  hysteria;  and  1  had  to  go  in  and  control  her 
a  little.  Sha  has  been  subject  to  thes«  attacks  ever  since 
the  death  of  her  husband,  poor  woman,"  said  the  viscount,  iu 
a  quavering  voice. 

Claudia  eyed  him  closely  and  continued: 

^'That  was  the  circumstance  that  recurred  to  my  mtmory 
with  so  much  significance  when  Katie  was  reported  missing 
this  morning.  Then,  upon  making  inquiries  as  to  where  and 
by  whom  she  was  last  seen,  another  very  significant  circum- 
stance was  brought  to  my  knowledge,  that  she  was  seen 
last  evening  to  issue  from  your  rooms  immediately  after  you 
and  your  valet  left  them;  and  it  appears  to  have  been  just 
after  that  she  met  me  on  the  steps." 

"Flames  of ! !  What  was  she  doing  in  my  room?"  ex- 
claimed the  viscount,  losing  all  self-command  for  the  moment 
and  turning  ghastly  white  with  the  mingled  passions  of  rage 
and  terror. 

"I  do  not  know,  ray  lord ;  probably  her  duty,  a  part  of  which 
is  to  keep  your  linen  in  order.  But  whatever  took  her  to 
your  rooms,  on  that  occasion,  or  detained  her  there,  it  is 
very  evident  that  while  there  she  made  some  frightful  dis- 
covery which  she  wished  to  communicate  and  would  have 
•ommunicated  to  me  had  she  not  been — prevented,"  said 
Claudia,  firmly. 

Lord  Vincent  was  tremendously  agitated,  but  struggling 
bard  to  regain  composure.    At  last  he  succeeded. 

**Who  told  you  that  she  was  seen  coming  from  my  looms? 
What  spy,  what  eavesdropper,  what  mischicf-makor  have  you 
in  your  em.ploy  that  goes  about  my  house — watching,  listen- 
ing and  tale-bearing?  If  I  detect  such  a  culprit  in  the  act 
I  will  break  his  or  her  neck,  and  that  you  may  rely  upon!" 
he  said. 

"Have  you  broken  Katie's  neck?"  inquired  Lady  Vincent. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha !  If  I  had  caught  her  hiding  in  my  rooms  1 
should  have  done  so  beyond  a  doubt!  Luckily  for  her  I  did 
not  do  so,  as  you  must  be  aware,  since  you  say  she  was  seen 
coming  out  of  them." 

**Yes;  b\it  she  was  never  seen  to  leave  the  castle!" 

"Lady  Vincent!  what  is  that  you  dare  to  insinuate?" 

"My  lord,  I  insinuate  nothing.  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I 
feel  myself  to  be — not  in  a  nobleman's  castle,   but  in  a 


A  Deep  One.  I05 

hS^SgOA^  fasJme&%l  aad  that  I  suspect  my  p««r  old  acQ^ant 
bas  been  foully  made  way  with !" 

"Lady  Vincent !  how  dare  you  ? " 

**You  may  glare  at  me,  my  lord ;  but  you  shall  not  intimi- 
date me !  I  have  seen  one  murdered  woman  in  the  house ;  I 
do  strongly  suspect  the  presence  of  another,  and  I  know  not 
how  soon  my  own  life  may  fall  a  sacrifice  to  the  evil  pas- 
sions of  the  fiend  that  rules  your  fate.  I  have  been  silent 
'in  regard  to  my  deep  wrongs  for  a  long  time,  my  lord.  But 
now  that  my  poor  servant  has  fallen  a  victim  to  her  fidelity, 
I  can  be  silent  no  longer!  I  am  here,  alone,  helpless,  and  in 
your  power !  Yet  I  must  make  my  protest  and  trust  in  God's 
mercy  to  deliver  me,  and  what  is  left  of  mine,  from  tho  hands 
of  the  spoiler !"  said  Claudia,  solemnly. 

Sometimes  necessity  compels  people  to  think  and  act  with 
gi-eat  rapidity ;  to  rally  their  faculties  and  charge  a  diiSculty 
at  a  moment's  notice. 

This  was  the  case  with  the  Viscount  Vincent  now.  Very 
quickly  he  collected  his  mind,  formed  his  resolution,  and 
acted  upon  it. 

"Lady  Vincent,"  he  said,  in  a  kinder  tone  than  he  liad  yet 
used,  "your  words  shock  and  appal  me  beyond  all  measure! 
Your  suspicions  wrong  me  cruelly,  foully;  I  know  nothing 
whatever  of  the  fate  of  your  woman;  on  my  soul  and  honor 
I  do  not!  But  if  you  really  suspect  that  any  cue  had  an 
interest  in  the  taking  off  of  that  poor  old  creature,  tell  me 
at  once  to  whom  your  suspicions  point,  and  I  will  do  my  very 
utmost  to  discover  the  truth!  By  all  ray  hopes  of  final  re- 
demption and  salvation  I  will !"  he  added,  looking  earnestly 
in  her  face. 

Claudia  gazed  at  him  in  utter  amazement.  Could  this  be 
true  ?  she  asked  herself.  Could  a  man  look  so  full  in  her  face, 
epeak  so  earnestly,  and  swear  by  such  sacred  things,  while 
telling  a  falsehood.  To  one  of  Claudia's  proud  nature,  it 
was  easier  to  believe  a  man  guilty  of  murder  than  of  lying 
and  perjury.    She  was  thoroughly  perplexed. 

Lord  Vincent  saw  the  effect  his  words  had  had  upon  her, 
and  he  was  encouraged  to  follow  up  his  success. 

"Whom  do  you  suspect,  Claudia  ?"  he  inquired. 

She  answered  honestly. 

"My  lord,  I  will  tell  you  truly.    I  suspect  you." 

"Me!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh  of  incredulity.  Never 
was  honest  scorn  and  righteous  indignation  m^ore  forcibly 
expressed.  "Me  !  Why,  Claudia,  in  the  name  of  all  the  in- 
sanities in  Bedlam,  why  should  you  suspect  me?  What  in- 
terest could  I  possibly  have  in  getting  rid  of  your  amusing 
goriUa?" 

"My  lord,  I  hope  that  I  have  wrong'ed  youj  but  I  fearocl 


Xo6  A  Deep  One. 

that  Katie  had  become  possessed  of  some  secret  of  yours 
which  you  wished  to  prevent  her  from  divulging." 

"And  for  that  reason  you  thought  I  would  have  taken  her 
life?" 

"For  that  reason  I  thought  you  would  have  made  away 
with  her — by  kidnapping  and  sending  her  out  of  the  country, 
or  by  immuring  her  in  one  of  the  dungeons  of  the  castle, 
or  even  by " 

"Speak  out !    'Cutting  her  throat,'  why  don't  you  say  1" 

"Oh,  Lord  Vincent,  but  this  is  horrible!  horrible  I"  shud- 
dered Claudia. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha !  Well,  upon  my  life,  my  lady,  you  are  exces- 
sively complimentary  to  me!  But  T  am  willing  to  believe 
that  the  tragic  event  of  last  week  has  shattered  your  ner- 
vous system  and  disturbed  the  equilibrium  of  your  mind. 
But  for  that  I  should  scarcely  know  how  to  pardon  your  ab- 
surd insults.  Have  you  anything  more  to  sav  to  me.  Lady 
Vincent?"  _ 

"Only  this,  my  lord;  that  if  I  find  I  have  wronged  you  by 
this  dreadful  suspicion,  as  perhaps  I  have,  I  shall  be  glad, 
yes,  overjoyed,  to  acknowledge  it  and  beg  your  pardon.  And. 
in  the  meantime,  I  must  ask  you  to  keep  your  word  v/ith  me. 
and  investigate  the  disappearance  of  Katie!" 

"I  will  do  so  willingly.  Lady  Vincent.  And  now  a  wore 
with  you.  Will  you  not  change  your  mind  and  go  with  us 
to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dean  to-night  ?" 

"Xo,  my  lord,"  replied  Claudia,  in  a  tone  that  admitted  oi 
no  further  discussion  of  the  question. 

And  thus  they  parted. 

For  some  time  after  Claudia  left  the  library  Lord  Vin- 
cent remained  sitting  Avith  his  brows  contracted,  his  mouth 
clenched  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground.  He  was  in  deep 
thought.  Handsome  man  as  he  was,  villain  was  written  all 
over  his  face,  form  and  manner  in  characters  that  even  a 
child  could  have  read ;  and,  therefore,  no  one  was  to  be  pitied 
who,  having  once  seen  Lord  Vincent,  suffered  themselves  to 
be  deceived  by  him. 

Presently  he  arose,  bent  toward  the  door  and  peered  out, 
and,  seeing  that  the  coast  was  clear,  he  went  out  with  his 
stealthy,  gliding,  cat-like  step,  and  stole  softly  to  the  room 
of  Mrs,  Dugald. 

She  was  in  her  boudoir. 

He  entered  without  knocking,  locked  the  door  behind  him 
and  went  and  sat  down  by  her  side. 

"What  now  ?"  she  inquired,  looking  up. 

*^What  now?    Why,  all  is  lost  unless  we  act  proraDtlyl'* 

"I  said  it !" 

"Faustina  1  she  has  missed  Katie!" 

"That  was  a  matter  of  coui-se." 


A  Deep  One.  I07 

"But,  she  suspects  hep  fate!" 

"What  care  we  what  she  suspects?  She  can  prove  noth- 
ing!" said  Mrs.  Dxigald,  contemptuously. 

"Faustina — she  can  prove  everything  if  she  follows  up  the 
clue  she  has  found !  Listen !  She  was  in  the  hall,  near  the 
door,  when  the  deed  was  done !  She  heard  the  struggle  and 
the  cry  and  a  part  of  our  conversation." 

"del!  we  shall  all  be  guillotined!"  cried  the  woman,  start- 
ing to  her  feet  and  standing  before  him  in  deadly  terror. 

"We  have  no  guillotining  in  England;  but  hanging  is 
equally  or  even,  more  disagreeable." 

"Bete!  how  can  you  talk  so  when  my  bones  are  turning 
to  gristle  and  my  heart  to  jelly  with  the  fi-ight !"  cried  Mrs. 
Dugald. 

"I  jest  to  reassure  you.  If  we  act  with  promptitude  there 
will  be  no  danger;  not  the  least,  I  have  thrown  her  off  the 
scent  for  the  present;  I  have  told  her  that  the  noise,  the 
struggle,  the  cry  and  the  exclamation  slie  heard  was  nothing 
but  this — that  you  were  suffering  from  an  attack  of  hysterics; 
and  that  I  was  trying  to  control  and  soothe  you !  I  told  her 
that  I  knew  nothing  whatever  of  the  fate  of  her  gorilla: 
and  I  did  not  spare  the  most  solemn  oaths  to  assure  her  of  the 
truth  of  my  statement." 

"Good!  but  was  she  assured?" 

"Not  fully!  She  is  confused,  bewildered,  perplexed 
thrown  out  of  her  reckoning  and  off  the  track,  and  before  shf 
has  time  to  recover  herself,  collect  her  faculties  and  gee  upor 
the  scent  again,  we  must  act!  We  must  draw  the  net  arouno 
her.  We  must  place  her  in  a  position  in  which  her  char- 
acter as  a  witness  against  you  would  be  totally  vitiated.  To 
do  this  we  must  hasten  the  denouement  of  our  plot." 

"That  plot  which  will  rid  me  of  my  rival  and  make  me^ 
me  Lady  Vincent!"  exclaimed  the  siren,  her  eyes  sparkling, 
with  anticipated  triumph. 

"Yes,  my  angel,  yes !     And  I  would  it  were  to-morrow  1" 

"Ah !  but,  in  the  meanwhile,  if  I  should  be  found  out  and 
guillotined  ?"  she  cried,  with  a  shudder. 

"Hanged,  my  angel !  hanged !  not  guillotined !  I  told  you 
we  do  not  guillotine  people  in  England." 

"Ah-h-Ti!"  shrieked  the  guilty  woman,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

"But  I  tell  you  there  is  no  danger,  my  love;  none  at  all, 
if  we  do  but  act  promptly  and  firmly.  The  time  is  ripe.  The 
plot  is  ripe.  She  herself  walks  into  the  trap  by  insisting  on 
staying  at  home  this  evening,  instead  of  accompanying  us 
to  the  theatre.  I  have  sent  the  carriage  for  Mrs.  MacDonald. 
She  will  come  to  luncheon  with  us,  and  afterward  go  with  ua 
to  the  play.  My  lady  will  remain  at  home,  by  her  own  re» 
quest." 


loS  A  Kight  of  Horror. 

"ThiM  Tsfl^jti  ka»w  tfco  part  lis  i«  to  play  V* 

'Tea;  but  not  th©  preciise  boiir  of  his  debut.    That  T  sball 

teach  iiim  to-day.    He  will  be  well  up  in  his  lesson  by  this 

evening,  you  may  depend!" 
"Clell  then  we  shall  finish  the  work  to-night!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A      NIGHT      OF      HORROR. 

Claudia  passed  a  weary  day.  She  did  not  cease  in  her 
=ft'ort8  to  discover  some  clue  to  the  disappearance  of  old 
Katie.     But  all  her  efforts  were  fruitless. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  tho  carriage  that  was  sent  for  Mrs. 
MacDonald  returned,  bringing  that  lady. 

Claudia  did  not  go  down  into  the  drawing-room  to  receive 
her;  she  considered  Mrs.  Dugald's  companion,  whatever  her 
pretensions  might  be,  no  proper  associate  for  Lady  Vincent. 
She  met  the  visitor,  however,  at  dinner,  which  was  served 
some  hours  earlier  than  usual  in  order  to  give  the  play-going 
party  time  enough  to  reach  their  destination  before  the  rising 
of  the  curtain.  She  found  Mrs.  MacDonald  to  be  a  thin, 
pale,  shabby  woman,  about  forty  years  of  age;  one  of  those 
poor,  harmless,  complacent  creatures  who,  when  they  can  do 
so  without  breaking  any  law  of  God  or  man,  are  willing  to 
compromise  a  good  deal  of  their  self-respect  to  secure  priv- 
ileges which  they  could  not  otherwise  enjoy. 

And  though  Mrs.  MacDonald  was  a  descendant  of  the  re- 
nowned "Lords  of  the  Isles,"  and  was  as  proud  of  her  lineage 
as  any  aristocrat  alive,  yet  she  did  not  hesitate  to  accept  an. 
invitation  to  go  to  tlae  theatre  with  Lord  Vincent,  who  was 
onlled  a  "fast"  man,  and  Mrs.  Dugald,  who  was  mora  than  a 
BUsjjQcted  woman. 

Claudia  treated  this  lady  with  the  cold  politeness  that  the 
latter  coiild  neither  enjoy  nor  complain  of. 

Immediately  after  dinner  the  party  left  for  Banff. 

Few  good  women  have  ever  been  so  distressingly  misplaced 
as  Claudia  was;  therefore  few  could  understand  the  hourly 
torture  she  suffered  from  the  mere  presence  of  her  viciou3 
companions,  or  the  infinite  sense  of  relief  she  felt  in  being 
rid  of  them^  if  only  for  one  evening.  She  felt  the  atmos- 
phere the  purer  for  their  absence,  and  breathed  more  freely 
than  she  had  done  for  many  days.  •  _ 

She  soon  left  the  drawing-room,  whose  atmosphere  was  in- 
fected and  disturbed  with  memories  of  Mrs.  Dugald,  and  re- 
tired to  her  own  boudoir,  where  all  was  coqiparatively  pure 
and  peaceful. 

A   deep  bay-window  from  thi.s   room   overhung  the  sea. 


A  Nigbt  of  Horror.  109 

There  was  a  sof tJy-euslltioned  semi-Qii'oular  sofa  aroited  t^s 
window,  aid  a  round  mosaic  table  within  it.  _ 

Claudia  drew  aside  the  golden-brown  curtains  and  sat  down 
to  watch  tlie  gray  expanse  of  ocean,  over  which  the  night 
was  now  closing. 

While  gazing  abstractedly  out  at  sea  she  was  thinking  of 
Katie.  Xow  that  the  darkening  influence  of  Mrs.  Dugald's 
and  Lord  Vincent's  presence  was  withdrawn  from  her  ssphere, 
siie  was  enabled  to  think  clearly  and  decide  firmly.  Now 
tnat  the  viscount  no  longer  stood  before  her,  exercising  his 
diabolical  powers  of  duplicity  upon  her  judgment,  she  no 
longer  believed  his  protestations  of  ignorance  in  regard  to 
Katie's  fate.  On  the  contrary,  she  felt  convinced  that  he 
knew  all  about  it.  She  did  not  now  suppose,  what  her  fii'St 
frenzied  terrors  had  suggested,  that  Katie  had  been  murdered, 
but  that  she  had  been  abducted,  or  confined,  to  prevent  her 
from  divulging  some  secret  to  the  prejudice  of  the  viscount  of 
which  she  had  become  possessed.  For  Claudia  had  read  the 
viscount's  character  aright,  and  she  knew  that  though  h« 
would  not  hesitate  to  break  every  commandment  in  the  dece- 
iogue  when  he  could  do  so  with  impunity,  yet  he  would  not 
commit  any  crime  that  could  jeopardize  his  own  life  or  lib- 
erty. Therefore  she  knew  he  had  not  murdered  Katie,  but 
she  believed  that  he  had  "sequestrated"  her  in  some  way. 

Having  come  to  this  conclusion,  Claudia  nest  considered 
what  her  own  duty  was  in  the  premises.  Clearly  it  was  for 
her  to  take  every  measure  for  the  deliverance  of  her  faithful 
servant,  no  matter  how  difiicult  or  repugnant  those  measures 
should  be. 

Therefore  she  resolved  that  early  the  next  morning  she 
would  order  the  carriage  and  go  on  her  responsibility  and 
lodge  information  with  the  police  of  the  mysterious  disap- 
pearance of  her  servant  and  tho  suspicious  circumstanoe* 
that  attended  her  evanishment.  Claudia  knew  that  the  eye 
of  the  police  was  still  on  the  castle,  because  it  was  believed 
to  hold  the  undetected  murderer  of  Ailsie  Dunbar,  and  that, 
therefore,  their  action  upon  the  present  event  would  be 
prompt  and  keen.  She  knew,  also,  that  the  investigation 
would  bring  much  exposure  and  scandal  to  the  castle  and 
its  inmates,  and  that  it  would  enrage  Lord  Vincent  and  re- 
sult in  the  final  separation  of  herself  and  the  viscount.  But 
why,  she  asked  herself,  should  she  hesitate  upon  that  ac- 
count ? 

The  price  for  which  she  had  sold  herself  had  not  been 
paid.  She  had  her  empty  title,  but  no  position.  She  was 
not  a  peeress  among  peeresses ;  not  a  queen  of  beauty  and  of 
fashion,  leading  the  elite  of  society  in  London.  Ah,  no !  she 
was  a  despised  and  neglected  wife,  wasting  the  flower  of  her 


no  A  Night  of  Horror. 

youth  in  a  remote  and  dreary  coast  castle,  and  daily  insulted 
and  degi*aded  by  the  presence  of  an  unprincipled  rival . 

Claudia  was  by  this  time  worn  out  in  body  and  spirit,  so 
thoroughly  wearied  and  sickened  of  her  life  at  the  castle,  that 
she  only  desired  to  get  away  with  her  servants  and  pass  the 
remamder  of  her  days  in  peaceful  obscurity . 

And  her  contemplated  act  of  comi^laining  to  the  authorities 
was  to  be  her  first  step  toward  that  end . 

•  Having  resolved  upon  this  measure,  Claudia  felt  more  at 
ease. 

She  di*ew  the  curtains  of  her  window,  and  seated  herself  in 
her  favorite  easy-chair  before  the  bright,  sea-coal  fire,  and 
rang  for  tea . 

Sally  brought  the  waiter  up  to  her  mistress,  and  remained 
in  attendance  upon  her . 

"Has  anything  been  heard  of  Katie  yet?"  inquired  Lady 
Vincent . 

"No,  ma'am,  nothing  at  all,"  answered  Sally  through  her 
sobs. 

"Don't  cry;  tell  them,  when  you  go  down,  to  keep  up  the 
search  through  the  neighborhood;  and  if  she  is  not  forth- 
coming before  to-morroAV  morning,  I  will  take  such  steps  as 
shall  insui'e  her  discovery,"  said  Lady  Vincent,  as  she  sipped 
her  tea. 

Sally  only  wept  in  reply. 

"Remove  this  service  now.  And  you  need  not  come  up 
again  this  evening  maless  you  have  news  to  bring  me  of  Katie, 
for  I  need  to  be  alone,"  said  Lady  Vincent,  as  she  set  her 
empty  cup  upon  the  waiter. 

Sally  took  the  service  from  the  room. 

A  solitary  night  in  her  own  boudoir  would  not  seem  to 
promise  much  enjoyment;  yet  Claudia  was  happier,  because 
more  peaceful  now  than  she  had  ever  been  since  her  first  ar- 
rival at  Castle  Cragg. 

She  sat  on,  letting  the  hours  pass  calmly  and  silently  over 
her,  until  the  clock  struck  ten.  Then,  to  her  sm"prise,  she 
heard  a  knocking  at  the  outer  hall  door,  followed  by  the  sound 
of  an  arrival,  and  of  many  footsteps  hastening  up  the  stairs . 

Claudia  arose  to  her  feet  in  astonishment,  and  at  the  same 
moment  heard  the  voice  of  the  viscount  without,  saying  in 
ruffianly  tones: 

"Burst  open  the  door,  then!  Don't  you  see  it  is  locked  on 
the  inside?"    u  '>. 

And  with  a  violent  kick  the  door  of  Claudia's  boudoir, 
which  certainly  was  not  locked,  was  thrown  open,  and  Lord 
Vincent,  with  inflamed  cheeks  and  blood- shot  eyes,  strode 
into  the  room,  followed  by  Mrs.  Dugald,  Mi's.  MacDonald  and 
Old  Cuthbert. 
l^"Keep  the  door,  sir!    Let  no  one  pass  outl"  roai-ed  th© 


A  Niglit  of  Horror.  Ill 

\.  - 

Viscount  to  his  butlor,  who  immediately  shut  the  door  and 
placed  himself  against  it. 

"My  lord!"  exclaimed  Claudia,  in  indignant  amazement, 
*Svhat  is  the  meaning  of  this  violence  V 

"It  means,  my  lady,  that  you  are  discovered,  run  to 
earth,  entrapped,  cunning  vixen  as  you  are!"  exclaimed  the 
viscount,  with  an  air  of  vindictive  triumph. 

Mrs.  Dugald'  laughed  scoi-nfully.    .^ 

Mrs.  MacDonald  turned  up  her  chin  contemptuously. 

Old  Cuthbert  groaned  aloud, 

Claudia  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  and  then  said : 

"My  lord,  you  and  your  friends  appear  to  have  been  sup- 
ping on  very  bad  wine;  I  would  counsel  you  to  retire  and 
sleep  off  its  effects." 

"Ha-ha,  my  lady !  You  take  things  coolly !  I  compliment 
you  on  your  self-possession !"  sneered  the  viscount. 

Her  heart  nearly  bursting  with  anger,  Claudia  threw  her- 
self into  her  chair,  and,  with  difficulty  controlling  her  emo- 
tions, said: 

"Will  your  lordship  do  me  the  favor  to  explain  your  er- 
rand in  this  room,  and  then  retire  with  your  party  as  speedily 
as  possible?" 

"Certainly,  my  lady,  that  is  but  reasonable,  and  is  also 
just  what  I  intended  to  do,"  said  the  viscount,  bowing  with 
mock  courtesy. 

And  he  drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  held  it  in  his 
hand,  while  he  continued  to  speak,  addressing  himself  now 
to  the  whole  party  assembled  in  Lady  Vincent's  boudoir, 

"It  is  necessary  to  premise,  friends,  that  my  marriage  with 
this  lady  was  a  hasty,  ill-advised  and  inconsiderate  one;  un~ 
acceptable  to  my  family,  unfortunate  for  myself,  humiliating 
in  its  results.  For  some  weeks  past  my  suspicions  were 
aroused  to  the  fact  that  all  was  not  right  between  the  vis- 
countess and  another  member  of  my  establishment.  Cuth- 
bert, keep  that  door!     Let  no  one  rush  past!" 

"Ah,  me  laird;  dinna  fash  yourselM  I'll  keep  it!'* 
groaned  the  old  man,  putting  his  back  firmly  against  the 
door. 

"Lord  Vincent,"  exclaimed  Claudia,  haughtily,  "I  demand 
that  you  retract  your  words !  You  know  them  to  be  as  false 
— as  false  as — yourself!  They  could  not  be  falser  than 
that!"_ 

"I  will  prove  every  word  that  I  have  spoken  to  be  true !" 
replied  the  viscount.  Then,  continuing*  his  story,  he  said: 
"This  morning  certain  circumstances  strengthened  my  sus- 
picions. Among  others  the  persistence  with  which  her  lady- 
ship, though  in  good  health,  and  with  no  other  engagement 
at  bond,  resolved  and  adhered  to  her  resolution,  to  remain. 


112  A  Night  of  Horror. 

at  home  and  miss  the  rare  opportunity  of  seeing  ^fr.  and 
Mrs.  Dean  in  their  great  parts  of  Macbeth  and  Lady  Mac* 
belli.  Suspecting  that  her  ladyship  had  so: no  unlawful  de- 
sign in  thus  denying  herself  an  amusement  of  winch  1  know 
her  to  be  excessively  fond,  and  preferring  to  f-pend  the 
evening  at  home,  of  which  I  know  she  is  excessively  tired,  i 
ordered  my  faithful  old  servant,  Cuthbert,  to  watch — Jiot  his 
mistress.  Lady  Vincent,  but  another  individual " 

Here  old  Cuthbert  interrupted  the  speaker  with  deep 
groans. 

Claudia  remained  sitting  in  her  chair,  with  her  face  as 
pale  as  death,  her  teeth  firmly  set,  and  her  eyes  fiercely 
fixed  upon  the  face  of  the  man  who  was  thus  maligpiing  her 
honor. 

He  continued: 

"How  well  my  suspicions  were  founded,  and  how  faithfully 
old  Cuthbert  performed  his  duty,  you  will  soon  see.  It  ap- 
pears that  we  had  but  just  started  on  our  drive,  when  Cuth- 
bert, watching  the  motions  of  the  suspected  person,  saw  him 
steal  toward  Lady  Vincent's  apartments.  The  old  man 
glided  after  him,  and,  unseen  himself,  saw  him,  the  mis- 
creant, enter  Lady  Vincent's  boudoir!" 

"It  is  as  false  as  Satan !  Oh,  you  infamous  wretch !  what 
form  of  punislnnent  would  be  ignominious  enough  for  you  V* 
cried  Claudia,  springing  to  her  feet,  her  two  eyes  flaming 
with  consuming  wrath. 

But  the  viscount  approached  and  laid  his  hand  upon  her 
shoulder,  and  forced  her  down  into  her  seat  again. 

And  Claudia,  too  proud  to  resist,  where  resistance  wouM 
be  but  a  vain,  unseemly  struggle,  dropped  into  her  chair  and 
sat  perfectly  still — a  marble  statue,  with  eyes  of  flame. 

The  viscount,  with  fiendish  coolness,  continued: 

"Cuthbert  w.itched  and  listened  on  the  outside  of  the  door 
for  some  time,  and  then,  thinking  that  the  intruder  liad  no 
intention  of  leaving  the  room,  he  went  and  wrote  a  nole,  and 
sent  it  by  one  of  the  grooms,  moimted  on  a  swift  horse,  to 
me.  Ladies,  you  all  saw  the  boy  enter  the  theatre  and  hand 
me  this  note!  Your  interest  was  aroused,  but  I  only  told 
you  that  I  was  summoned  in  haste  to  my  lady's  apartments, 
and  begged  you  to  come  with  me " 

"And  I  thought  her  ladyship  was  perhaps  ill,  and  needed 
experienced  help,  or  I  sliould  certainly  not  have  followed 
your  lordship  into  this  room,"  said  Mrs.  MacDonald,  who, 
however,  made  no  motion  to  withdraw. 

Mrs.  Dugald's  insulting  laugh  rang  through  the  room. 

"I  beg  pardon,  madam;  I  know  this  is  not  a  pleasant 
scene  for  a  lady  to  take  part  in !  but  I  needed  witnesses,  and 
necessity  has  no  kw.    If  you  will  permit  me,  I  will  read  the 


A  Nigiit  of  Horror.  113 

note  1  received,"  said  the  viscount,  with  a  diabolical  sneer, 
as  he  unfolded  the  paper.     He  read  as  follows : 

"It  is  a'  as  your  lairdship  suspicioned.  If  your  lairdsliip 
will  come  your  ways  hams  at  ance,  you  xvill  find  the  sinful 
pair  m  me  leddy's  houdoir." 

The  note  had  neither  name  nor  date. 

"You  know,"  pursued  Lord  Vincent,  ''that  we  hurried 
home;  you  saw  me  speak  aside  with  Cuthbert  in  the  hall;  in 
that  short  interview  he  informed  me  that  he  had  remained 
upon  the  watch,  and  that  the  villain  had  not  yet  left  Lady 
Vincent's  apartments;  that  he  was  still  within  them!" 

"Oh,  Cuthbert!  I  believed  you  to  be  an  honest  old  man! 
It  is  awful  to  find  you  in  league  with  these  wretches!"  ex- 
claimed Claudia,   in  sorrowful  indignation. 

"Ou,  me  leddy!  I'd  rather  these  auld  limbs  o'  mine  had 
been  streaket  in  death  ere  I  had  to  use  them  in  siccan  un- 
canny wark !     But  the  Lord's  will  be  dune !"  groaned  the  old 
man,  in  such  sincere  grief  that  Claudia  was  thoroughly  per- 
plexed. 

And  all  this  time  the  viscount  was  continuing  his  cool,  dev- 
ilish monologue. 

"It  was  for  this  reason,  ladies,  that  I  burst  open  the  door 
and  called  you  in;  and  it  was  to  prevent  the  escape  of  the 
fellow  that  I  placed  Cuthbert  on  guard  at  the  door.  Now, 
my  lady,  that  you  understand  the  cause  of  the  'violence'  of 
which  you  just  now  complained,  you  will  please  permit  me  to 
search  the  room.  You  cannot  complain  that  I  have  acted 
with  unseemly  haste.  I  have  proceeded  with  great  delibera- 
tion. In  fact,  your  accomplice  has  had  abundant  time  to 
escape,  if  he  had  the  means." 

"Lord  Vincent,  these  outrages  shall  cost  you  your  life!" 
exclaimed  Claudia,  in  the  low,  deep,  stern  key  of  concen- 
trated passion. 

"All  in  good  time,  my  lady,"  sneered  the  viscount,  com- 
mencing the  humiliating  search.  He  looked  in  the  recess 
of  the  bay  window,  peeped  behind  curtains,  opened  closets, 
and  finally  drew  a  large  easy-chair  from  the  corner  of  the 
room. 

"Pray,  whom  do  you  expect  to  find  concealed  in  my  apart- 
ment, my  lord?"  demanded  Claudia,  white  with  rage. 

"My  respc.'table  valet,  the  good  Mr.  Frisbie !  And  here  he 
is!"  replied  the  viscount,  sarcastically. 

And,  to  Claudia's  horror  and  amazement,  he  drew  the 
trembling  wretch  from  his  concealment  and  hurled  him  into 
the  centre  of  the  room,  where  he  stood  with  dangling  arms 
and  bending  legs,  pale  and  quaking,  but  whether  with  real  or 
assumed  fear  Claudia  could  not  tell. 

"How  came  this  fellow  in  my  room?"  she  demanded,  in 
eonstvjrnatioii. 


114  A  Night  of  Horror. 

"Ay©!  sure  enough  1  how  did  he  come  here?"  sneered  Lord 
Vincent. 

Mrs.  Dugald  laughed. 

Mrs,  McDonald  raised  both  her  hands  in  horror. 

"Cornel  perhaps  he'll  tell  us  why  he  came  here!  Confess, 
you  scoundrel!  Say  what  brought  you  here!"  exclaimed  the 
viscount,  suddenly'  changing  Iiis  tone  from  cool  irony  to 
burning  rage,  as  he  seized  and  shook  his  valet. 

"Oh,  my  lord!  I  will!  I  will!  only  let  go  my  collar  1" 
gasped  the  man,  shaking,  or  affecting  to  shake. 

"Confess,  then,  you  rascal!     What  brought  you  here?" 

"Oh,  my  lord !    mercy !  mercy !     I  will  confess !    I  will  I" 

"Do  it,  then,  you  villain !" 

"Oh,  my  lord,  I — I  come — at — at  my  lady's  invitation,  my 
lord!" 

"You  came  at  Lady  Vincent's  invitation?"  cried  the  vis- 
count, shaking  the  speaker. 

*'V-y-yes,  my  lord!"  stammered  the  valet. 

"You — came — at  my  invitation  ?"  demanded  Lady  Vincent, 
haughtily,  fixing  her  eyes  of  fire  on  the  creature's  face. 

"Yes,  my  lady,  you  know  1  did!  It  is  no  use  for  us  to 
deny  it  now!  Ah,  my  lady,  I  always  warned  you  that  we 
should  be  found  out,  and  now,  sure  enough,  we  are !"  replied 
Frisbie. 

Claudia  clasped  her  hands  and  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven 
with  the  look  of  one  who  would  have  called  down  fire  upon 
the  heads  of  these  fiends  in  human  form. 

Lord  Vincent  continued  to  question  his  valet. 

"Does  Lady  Vincent  make  a  practice  of  inviting  you  to  her 
apartments  ?" 

"Y-y-yes,  my  lord'!" 

"How  often?" 

"Wh-wh-whenever  your  lordship's  absence  makes  it  safe !" 

"Then  I  am  to  imderstand  that  you  are  a  favored  suitor  of 
Lady  Vincent's?" 

'TTes,  yes,  my  lord !  Oh,  my  lord,  I  know  I  have  done  very 
wrong!     I  know  I " 

"Do  you  know  that  you  deserve  death,  sir?"  demanded  the 
viscount,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

"Oh,  my  lord!  mercy!  mercy!  I  know  I  am  a  great  sin- 
ner! I  could  kill  myself  for  it,  if  it  wasn't  for  fear  of  losing 
my  soul !  All  I  can  do  now  is  to  repent  and  confess !  I  do 
repent  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart!  and  I  will  confess 
everything!  Yes,  I  will  tell  your  lordship  all  about  it,  and 
throw  myself  on  your  lordship's  mercy !"  cried  this  remorae- 
less  villain.  ^  » 

"Enough !  T  wish  to  hear  no  more  from  you  just  at  pres- 
ent !  Your  confession  would  be  scarcely  fit  for  the  ears  of 
these  ladies.    Your  testimony  must  be  reserved  for  a  figure 


A  Night  of  Horror.  115 

occasion,"  said  fhe  viscount.    And  then,  turning  to  Claudia 
with  the  coolest  and  most  insulting  hauteur,  he  said: 

"And  now !  what  have  you  to  say  to  all  this,  my  lady  ?" 

Claudia  advanced  into  the  centre  of  the  room ;  her  step  was 
firm,  her  head  erect,  her  cheeks  burning,  her  eyes  blazing, 
her  whole  form  dilated  and  lifted  to  grandeur;  she  looked 
a  very  Nemesis!  a  very  Goddess  of  Retributive  Justice,  as, 
thi'owing  her  consuming  glance  around  upon  the  group,  who 
'  fairly  quailed  before  her,  she  said : 

"What  have  'I  to  say  to  all  this?'  I  say.  Lord  Vincent, 
be  assured  that  you  shall  die  for  these  insults !  I  say  that  I 
know  this  to  be  a  foul  conspiracy  against  my  honor,  and  as 
feeble  as  it  is  foul  1  Oh,  reptiles !  base,  crawling,  slimy, 
venemous  reptiles !  Do  you  really  suppose  that  the  honor  of 
a  pure  woman  is  of  such  weak  and  sickly  nature  as  to  be  de- 
stroyed by  the  poison  of  your  calumnies ?  Fools!  I  shall 
leave  this  place  for  London  to-morrow  1  I  shall  go  at  once 
to  the  American  legation  and  see  our  American  minister, 
who  is  an  old  friend  of  my  father.  I  will  tell  him  all  that 
has  taken  place  and  come  to  my  knowledge  since  I  have  lived 
under  this  accursed  and  polluted  roof!  I  will  advise  with 
him  as  to  the  best  measures  to  be  taken  for  the  discovery  of 
my  poor  old  servant,  Katie !  and  for  the  unmasking  and  pros- 
ecuting to  conviction  the  wretches  who  have  conspired 
against  my  honor  I  What !  I  am  the  daughter  of  Randolph 
Merlin!  The  blood  of  an  Indian  king,  who  never  spared  a 
foe,  burns  along  my  veins  1  Take  heed !  beware !  escape  while 
you  may !  My  lord,  your  fate  shall  find  you,  even  though  it 
follow  you  to  the  farthest  ends  of  the  earth!  You  are 
warned!  And  now,^s  a  few  moments  since,  my  request  that 
you  would  withdraw  your  accomplices  from  the  room  was 
disregarded,  I  must  retire  to  my  chamber." 

And,  with  the  air  and  manner  of  an  outraged  queen,  Clau- 
dia left  the  boudoir. 

"Friends !"  said  Lord  Vincent,  turning  to  his  female  com- 
panions, "your  testimony  will  be  hereafter  required  in  this 
case.  I  beg  you,  therefore,  in  the  name  of  justice,  to  make 
a  mental  note  of  what  you  have  seen  and  heard  to-night! 
Remember  Lady  Vincent's  strange  conduct  in  declining  to 
accompany  us  to  the  theatre,  and  resolving  to  stay  at  home; 
remember  the  note  that  was  brought  me  in  my  box  and  our 
unexpected  return  home;  remember  particularly  that  the 
door  leading  into  Lady  Vincent's  apartments  was  fastened 
on  the  inside,  and  that  I  had  to  break  it  open;  remember 
also  that  we  found  the  wretch,  Frisbie,  concealed  in  the  room, 
and  that  he  made  a  full  confession," 

"It  is  not  likely  that  we  shall  forget  it,  my  lord!"  said 
Hrs.  MacDonald,  gravely. 

"No  1  what  horror  1"  cried  Mrs.  Dugald. 
8 


'li6  A  Night  of  Horror, 

"And  now,  ladies,  I  will  no  longer  detain  you  from  youip 
necessary  rest,"  said  the  viscount,  ringing  the  bell,  which  the 
housekeeper,  looking  amazed,  scandalized  and  full  of  curi- 
osity, answered. 

"Murdock,  show  this  lady,  Mrs.  McDonald,  to  the  blue 
suite  of  rooms,  and  place  yom*self  at  her  service.  Madam, 
pray  order  any  refreshments  you  may  require.  Good- night, 
madam.     Sister,  good-night  I" 

"Good-night!  good-night,  my  lord  I  I  shall  pray  that  you 
may  be  able  to  bear  this  great  misfortxine  with  the  fortitude 
becoming  a  man!"  said  Mrs,  MacDonald. 

"Good-night,  brother!  I  shall  pray  the  Virgin  to  comfort 
you!"  said  Mrs.  Dugald. 

When  the  "ladies,"  attended  by  the  housekeeper,  had  left 
the  room  and  were  quite  out  of  heai'ing.  Lord  Vincent  turned 
to  his  accomplice  and  whispered :  j 

'  'You  did  that  capitally,  Frisbie.  You  would  make  an  ex-! 
cellent  actor!  Any  one  on  earth  looking  at  you  this  evening 
and  not  knowing  the  truth  Avould  have  thought  you  were  dy- 
ing of  mortification  and  terror!  You  shook  and  faltered  so 
naturally!" 

'■     "Oh,  my  lord!"  returned  the  valet,  in  modest  deprecation 
of  this  jDraise, 

"You  did,  but  now  I  wish  you  to  tell  me!  How  did  you 
manage  to  awaken  the  siispicions  of  old  Cuthbert?  How  did 
you  manage  to  di*aw  his  eyes  upon  you?  And  draw  him  ou 
to  watch  you  until  you  entered  the  room  without  seeming  to 
know  that  you  were  watched!" 

"I  tell  you,  my  lord,  that  pai't  of  my»task  was  hard!  But 
I  contrived  to  do  it  by  pretending  to  watch  him,  and  affect- 
ing to  dodge  out  of  sight  every  time  he  saw  mel  This  ex- 
cited his  curiosity,  and  caused  him  to  conceal  himself  in  order 
to  watch  me.  When  I  knew  that  he  had  done  this,  I  began 
to  creep  toward  my  lady's  apartments,  knowing  full  well  that 
he  was  stealing  after  me." 

"But  how  did  you  contrive  to  get  into  the  boudoir?" 

"I  wore  list  slippers,  and  yom*  lordship  knows  that  the  thick 
carpets  return  no  echo  to  the  footsteps,  and  that  the  doors 
open  and  shut  silently.  First  I  peeped  through  the  keyhole, 
and  I  saw  her  ladyship  was  sitting  within  the  ciirtained  re- 
cess of  the  bay  window,  looking  out  at  sea,  her  attention  being 
absorbed  there,  and  her  back  being  toward  the  door.  So  I 
just  softly  opened  the  door,  entered  the  room,  closing  it  after 
me,  and  concealed  myself  behind  your  lordship's  own  great 
easy-chair,  that  I  knew  was  never  drawn  from  its  dark 
corner." 

"For  the  good  reason  that  the  owner  is  never  there  to  oo-i 
cupy  it!"  sneered  the  viscount. 
,     "Just  so,  my  lord!    And  now  I  have  told  your  lordship  ex- 


A  NigHt  of  Horror,  117 

actly  how  I  managed  matters,  so  as  to  make  old  Cuthbert  oui' 
accomplice  without  his  ever  suspecting  it !" 

"Old  Cuthbert  must  think  you  a  grand  rascal !" 

"He  does  me  great  honor,  your  lordship !" 

"There !  now  go  about  your  business,  Frisbie !  Of  course, 
you  must  get  away  from  here  by  the  morning's  first  light !  It 
must  be  supposed  that  you  have  been  kicked  out.  Kemain  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Banff.  You  will  be  wanted  as  a  witness, 
you  know !" 

"Yes,  my  lord;  but  in  the  meantime — I  have  saved  nothing! 
I  have  no  means." 

"Oh,  you  mercenary  rascal!  You  have  saved  your  neck 
from  the  gallows,  if  you  have  saved  nothing  else !  But  here 
are  ten  pounds  for  present  needs ;  and  I  will  take  care  not  to 
Bee  you  want  for  the  future.  Now  be  pff  with  you!  Your 
longer  stay  will  excite  surprise  and  conjecture." 

"Your  lordship  is  too  good  1"  said  the  caitiff,  bowing  him- 
self out. 

Lord  Vincent  soon  after  left  the  boudoir  and  went  down- 
stairs.   In  the  hall  he  found  old  Cuthbert  up  and  waiting. 

"You  here  yet,  Cuthbert?    Why  don't  you  go  to  bed?"  _ 

"Ou  me  laird,  I  couldna  slep  wi'  the  though  o'  siccan  dis- 
honor bef a'ing  the  house  1"  groaned  the  old  man. 

"The  dishonor  attaches  but  to  one  person,  and  the  house 
will  be  rid  of  it  when  she  is  cast  forth,"  said  the  viscount. 

"Ou  me  laird !  for  pity,  dinna  do  that !  Send  her  her  waya 
back  to  her  ain  countrie.  She's  but  a  wee  bit  lassie  after  all. 
!A.nd  she's  awa'  f ra  f ey ther  and  mither,  and  a'  her  folk !  _  And 
deed  I  canna  bring  mysel'  to  think  that  ill  o'  her,  neither! 
'deed  no !  The  lad  Frisbie  looked  just  as  if  he  were  leeing. 
Folk  dinna  look  as  he  looked  when  they're  telling  the  truth !" 

"Cuthbert,  you  are  an  old  dolt !  We  do  not  depend  on  Fris- 
bie's  word  exclusively !  ^  We  have  the  fact  of  finding  him  in 
the  room  1" 

"I  misdoubt  he  een  just  hid  himsel'  in  there  for  the  pur- 
pose of  r.obbery,  unbeknownst  to  the  leddy!  And  then  cast 
the  blame  on  her  to  help  to  shield  himsel',  the  villain!" 

"Cuthbert,  you  are  in  your  dotage!"  exclaimed  the  vis- 
coTmt,  angrily. 

"It  may  be  sae,  my  laird !  but  I  canna'  think  shame  o'  the 
leddy  1  Nay,  I  canna !  Howbeit !  richt  or  wrang,  the  shame 
has  come  till  her!  Sae,  me  laird,  in  maxcy  take  an  auld 
man's  counsel,  and  e'en  just  gie  her  her  dower,  and  send  her 
her  ways  to  her  feyther's  house." 

"Cuthbert !  your  brain  is  sofi;emng.  Hark  ye !  Get  your- 
Belf  off  to  bed." 

"Ay,  me  laird,"  said  the  old  man,  medcly,  as  he  withdrew 
(to  his  den ;  "but  I  canna  think  sin  o'  the  leddy !  nay,  nay,  I 
caimal" 


Ii8  A  Night  of  Horror. 

"When  all  tlie  house  was  still  Lord  Vincent  stole  to  the 
apartments  of  Mrs.  Dugaid. 

"Oh  1  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  so  long  and  so  impatient- 
ly," she  said,  as  she  placed  him  a  chair  at  her  dressing-room 
fireside.  "There  is  a  question  I  have  been  dying  to  ask  you 
all  day  1  But  I  could  get  no  good  chance  to  ask  without  the 
risk  of  being  overheard.     And  that  would  have  been  ruin!" 

"What  is  that  question,  Faustina  ?" 

The  woman  turned  so  deadly  white  that  her  black  eyes 
gleamed  like  great  balls  of  jet  from  a  face  of  stone,  as,  sink- 
ing her  voice  to  the  lowest  key,  she  said: 

"What  have  you  done  with  it?" 

"With  what,  Faustina?" 

"With  the  dead  body  of  the  hlacJc  womanf" 

The  viscount  slowly  lowered  his  finger  and  signifioantljj 
pointed  downward. 

"Down  there  ?"  whispered  Faustina. 

The  viscount  nodded. 

"Where  we  left  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh,  but  that  is  not  safe!  There  is  suspicion!  Suppose 
there  should  be  a  search!  suppose  there  should  be  a  dis- 
covery?" cried  the  woman,  in  alarm. 

"Ee  at  ease.  I  shall  not  leave  her  there  long;  the  sea  ia 
near  at  hand,"  whispered  the  viscount. 

"Yes,  you  may  cast  her  into  the  sea ;  but  the  sea  sometimes 
casts  back  its  dead!  Especially  when  they  have  been  mur- 
dered," shuddered  the  woman. 

"The  sea  will  not  cast  her  back,"  said  the  viscount,  sig- 
nificantly. 

"Oh!  you  will  tie  a  heavy  weight  to  her  body!  but  when 
will  you  do  it  ?     Oh  I  I  am  in  agony,  until  that  is  removed  !'* 

"Be  still!  I  hope  to  have  an  opportunity  of  removing  it 
to-night." 

•  "But  you  cannot  do  it  alone!  let  me  help  you!    I  would 
rather  help  you!" 

"No,  I  can  and  will  do  it  without  your  help!  Do  you 
think,  my  angel,  that  I  would  permit  you  to  engage  in  such 
dreadful  work?" 

"I  helped  to  stop  her  breath,"  said  the  woman,  hoarsely. 

"That  was  a  work  of  necessity  that  presented  itself  sud- 
denly before  us.     This  is  different." 

"But  I  would  rather  help !  I  would  rather  be  present  I  I 
would  rather  see !  for  then  I  should  know  to  a  certainty  that 
it  was  gone!"  she  insisted.  "The  hotise  is  all  still;  everybody 
has  retired ;  can  we  not  go  now  and  remove  it  ?" 

"No,  not  now !  there  is  a  vessel  lying  at  anchor  close  under 
the  shore.     We  must  wait  until  she  moves  off." 

**And  the  vessel  may  lay  there  a  whole  week  I    And  in  thg 


A  Night  of  Horror.  119 

meantime  what  becomes  of  the  body?"  exclaimed  Faustina, 
her  eyes  wild  with  apprehension. 

'■'I  am  assured  by  those  that  know  that  the  vessel  will  sail 
with  the  first  tide  to-morrow  morning.  So  be  tranquil.  And 
now,  Faustina,  there  is  another  subject  which  we  must  settle 
to-night.  Lady  Vincent  leaves  the  castle  early  to-morrow 
morning.  That  is  necessary  1  and  though  it  cleaves  my  heart 
in  two  to  part  with  you,  I  must  do  it  for  a  season.  The 
world  must  have  no  cause  to  talk  of  you  and  me,  Faustina; 
of  you,  especially,  for  of  you  it  would  be  the  most  likely 
to  talk." 

"Why  of  me  ?"  inquired  the  ex-opera  singer,  testily. 

"Because,  my  dearest,  you  have  more  beauty  and  genius 
and  fame  than  the  world  ever  forgives  in  a  woman,"  an- 
swered the  viscount,  artfully. 

"Oh !"  said  the  siren,  with  an  air  of  arch  incredulity. 

"And  now,  Faustina,  it  shall  be  for  you  to  decide.  Shall 
you  remain  here,  with  Mrs.  MacDonald  for  a  companion  and 
chaperone,  while  I  go  to  London  to  take  the  preliminary  steps 
toward  the  divorce,  or  shall  you  go  to  Brighton  or  Torquay, 
or  any  other  watering-place  on  the  South  Coast?" 

Mrs.  Dugald  was  very  astute;  she  answered  promptly: 

"Oh,  I  will  remain  here !  And  then  you  will  not  be  jealous. 
There  is  no  one  here  to  admire  me  except  Mrs.  MacDonald 
and  old  Cuthbert  and  Murdoch." 

"Bless  you !  bless  you !  Do  you  believe  you  love  me  because 
you  anticipate  my  wishes  so  readily,"  said  this  devotee,  fer- 
vently, 

"And  now  you  must  go,  and  say  good-night!     It  is  two 

'©'clock  in  the  morning,  and  I  am  tired  to  death.     And  mind 

about  that  below,  you  know  1    And  the  first  safe  opportunity 

you  have,  come  to  me  to  help  you  to  remove  it.    Mind !"  said 

Faustina,  raising  her  finger. 

"I  will  mind !  Good-night ! — What  ?  no  kiss,  even  for  good- 
night ?"  he  said,  as  she  recoiled  from  his  offered  salute. 

"No !  I  reserve  my  kisses  for  my  husband !"  she  answered, 
archly.  Thus  this  evil  woman,  steeped  to  the  lips  in  sin, 
affected  the  prude  with  the  man  she  wished  to  secure.  And 
while  making  and  receiving  the  most  ardent  protestations  of 
love,  disallowed  the  very  slightest  caress. 

The  viscount,  baffled  and  dissatisfied,  but  more  determined 
than  ever  to  marry  this  tantalizing  beauty,  left  the  room 
and  retired  to  his  own  chamber. 


MO  The  Castle  Vault 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE     CASTLE     VAULT. 

There  was  opening  from  Lord  Vincent's  dressing-room  a 
bay-window,  having  a  balcony  on  the  outside  overhanging  the 
sea.  The  viscount  took  a  night  telescope,  opened  the  window 
and  stepped  out  upon  the  balcony.  He  adjusted  the  glass 
and  swept  the  coast.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the  solitary 
vessel  that  lay  at  anchor  almost  under  the  castle  walls. 

"The  coast  is  clear,''  said  the  viscount  to  himself,  as  he  re- 
entered the  room  and  replaced  the  telescope. 

Then  wrapping  himself  in  a  large  maud  and  pulling  a 
slouched  hat  over  his  eyes,  he  left  the  room,  descended  the 
stairs  and  went  out. 

He  took  the  way  down  to  the  sands  at  the  extreme  base  of 
the  promontory.  The  path  that  led  down  the  side  of  tlae  clifl 
was  steep,  slippery  and  very  dangerous  even  at  noonday. 
And  this  was  one  of  the  darkest  hours  of  the  night  that  pre- 
cedes the  dawn.  And  the  path  was  more  perilous  than  ever. 
But  the  viscount  was  Highland  bred  and  his  step  was  a? 
sure  on  the  steep  mountain  edge  as  on  the  level  plain.  He 
reached  the  foot  of  the  precipice  in  safety  and  stood  upon 
the  sands  and  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small  whistle,  which 
he  placed  to  his  lips  and  blew  a  shrill  call. 

It  was  answered  from  the  vessel  at  anchor.  And  soon  a 
boat  was  put  off  from  her  side,  and  rowed  swiftly  to  the  shore. 

"Is  that  you,  Costo  ?"  inquired  the  viscount  of  the  man  who 
jumped  ashore. 

"No,  sefior;  it  is  Paolo." 

"The  mate?" 

"Yes,  senor." 

"Where  is  Costo  ?" 

"On  board  the  vessel,  senor." 

"What  have  you  brought  this  time?" 

"Cuban  tobacco,  Jamaica  spirits  and  some  rich  West  In- 
dian fabrics  for  ladies'  dresses.  A  cask  of  spirits  and  a  box 
of  cigars  have  gone  up  to  the  castle.  Old  Mr.  Cuthbert  took 
them  in." 

"All  right ;  but  I  have  some  business  now  at  hand  that 
Cuthbert  must  know  nothing  about.  For  instance,  he  is  in 
ignorance,  and  must  remain  in  ignorance,  of  my  visit  to  the 
beach  to-night." 

"^Ve  can  be  silent  as  the  grave,  senor." 

"Have  you  had  any  trouble  from  the  coast  guard?" 


The  Castle  Vault.  121 

t 

"No,  senor;  how  could  we?  Is  not  yoiir  excellency  the 
^>rotector  of  the  poor?" 

The  viscount  laughed .  ^ 

'  "It  is  true,"  he  said,  "that  the  guards  at  the  nearest  station 
are  in  my  power,  and  know  better  than  to  pry  too  closely  into 
•le  concerns  of  any  vessels  that  run  into  my  castle  cove; 
but  beyond  their  domain  I  cannot  protect  you;  so  be  cau- 
tious!" 

"We  are  cautious,  senor.  So  cautious  that  we  shall  sail 
with  the  first  tide." 

"For  Havana?" 

"For  Havana,  senor." 

"Well,  now  I  wish  you  to  take  me  to  the  vessel.  I  must 
see  the  captain." 

"Sm-ely,  senor,"  said  the  obsequious  mate,  as  the  viscount 
stepped  into  the  boat. 

"Give  way,  men!  Back  to  the  brigantine!"  said  the  mate. 
And  the  men  laid  themselves  to  their  oars,  and  soon  reached 
the  vessel's  side. 

Lord  Vincent  was  received  with  the  greatest  respect  by  the 
captain,  who  came  to  the  starboard  gangway  to  meet  him, 

"Let  us  go  to  your  cabin  at  once,  Costo;  I  have  business  to 
discuss  with  you,"  said  the  viscount, 

"Surely,  senor,"  repHed  the  captain,  leading  the  way  dowH 
to  a  small,  snug  cabin. 

It  was  flanked  each  side  by  two  comfortable  berths,  and 
furnished  with  a  biiffet  at  one  end  and  a  round  table  and  two 
chairs  in  the  centre. 

"Will  the  senor  deign  to  seat  himself?"  said  the  captain, 
offering  one  of  these  chairs  to  the  visitor  and  taking  the 
other  himself. 

There  were  decanters  of  spirits,  glasses,  cigars,  pipes  and 
tobacco  on  the  table. 

"Will  the  senor  deign  to  taste  this  rum,  which  is  of  fine 
quality,  and  try  one  of  these  cigars,  which  is  at  once  so  strong 
and  so  dehcate  of  aroma?" 

For  an  answer  the  viscount  poured  out  a  liberal  portion  of 
the  spirits,  and  quaffed  it  almost  at  a  draught,  and  then  hghted 
a  cigar  and  commenced  smoking.  He  smoked  away  for  a  few 
minutes,  din-ing  which  Costo  waited  respectfully  for  him  to 
open  communications. 

"Costo!  in  your  island  of  Cuba  able-bodied  men  and 
women  of  the  negro  race  command  good  prices,  do  they  not?" 

"Yes,  senor — great  prices,  since  your  ulustrious  statesmen 
have  abolished  the  African  slave-trade  over  all  the  ocean." 

"For  instance,  how  much  would  a  fine  young  man  of  say 
twenty- one  years  of  age  bring?" 

'  'From  two  to  five  thouBand  dollars,  acoordin^  to  his  health, 
good  looks  and  accompHshments.    I  have  known  a,  lik&ly  boy 


182  Tlie  Castle  Vault. 

of  fourteeu  to  eell  for  three  thousand  dollars  t  He  is  no^ff 
one  of  the  best  cooks  on  the  island." 

"Humph !  then  I  should  say  the  one  I  speak  of  would  bring 
near  the  highest  price  you  have  named.  How  much  would  a 
healthy,  handsome  girl  of  eighteen  bring?" 

"Mulatress  or  quadroon?" 

"Oh,  neither !  She  is  a  negress,  black  as  the  blackest  satin, 
but  with  a  skin  as  smooth  and  soft — a  Venus  carved  in  jet." 

"From  a  thousand  to  two  thousand  dollars,  perhaps,  as  she 
is  a  negress;  but  if  she  were  a  mulatress  she  would  bring 
more,  or  if  a  quadroon  most  of  all — other  things  being  equal." 

"And  how  much  would  a  stout,  healthy,  strong-minded 
woman  of  fifty  bring  ?" 

"That  depends  upon  other  circumstances,  senor.  If,  to- 
gether with  her  health  and  intelligence,  she  should  be  a  good 
housekeeper  and  nurse,  as  women  of  her  age  are  apt  to  be, 
why,  then,  she  might  bring  from  nine  to  twelve  hundred  dol- 
lars." 

"Well,  Costo,  I  have  three  such  negroes  as  I  have  just  de- 
scribed to  dispose  of." 

"You,  senor  ?  But  you  are  English  and  this  is  England !" 
ezclaimed  the  buccaneer,  in  amazement. 

"Scotch — and  Scotland.  But,  no  matter — it  amounts  to 
the  same  thing.     Will  you  buy  my  negroes  at  a  bargain  ?" 

"Pardon,  senor,  but  I  do  not  understand !  I  thought  thera 
was  no  buying  and  selling  of  slaves  in  England !" 

"Of  course  there  is  not!  And  there  is  no  free  trade  in 
England.  Both  negro-selling  and  smuggling  are  illegal.  Yet 
as  you  manage  to  drive  a  pretty  profitable  business  in  the 
latter,  you  might  speculate  a  little  in  the  former.     Eh?" 

"But,  pardon,  seiior !     I  am  not  in  the  slave-trade !" 

"What  of  that  ?  When  such  a  splendid  opportunity  of  do- 
ing a  fine  stroke  of  business  offers,  you  might  step  aside 
from  your  regular  routine  of  trade  to  make  a  considerable 
sum  of  money,  might  you  not?" 

"If  the  senor  would  condescend  to  explain  himself  I  might 
understand  the  affair  he  proposes  to  me.  I  do  not  yet  com- 
prehend how  he  can  have  slaves  to  sell  in  England,"  said  th? 
captain,  respectfully. 

"Perhaps  another  would  not  be  able  to  understand  how  you 
manage  to  import  articles  upon  which  heavy  duty  is  laid, 
free  of  all  duty  whatever  ?"  suggested  the  viscount,  indulging 
in  a  sneer. 

"Tf  the  senor  would  deign  to  make  his  meaning  clear?" 

"Well,  the  senor  will  endeavor  to  do  so.  Though  more  der 
pcnds  upon  your  pGrspicacity  than  his  perspicuity.  Can  you 
comprehend  that  when  I  was  on  a  visit  to  the  States  T  mar^ 
ried  a  young  American  lady  who  owned  a  large  number  oi 


Tlie  Castle  Vault.  123 

slaves,  who,  of  course,  passed  into  my  posaeasion  from  the 
marriage  day?" 

"Oh,  yes,  seuor;  that  is  easily  understood." 

"Three  of  these  slaves,  the  three  of  which  I  have  jus'fi 
spoken,  being  favorites  of  their  mistress,  attended  her  to  this 
country." 

"And  became  free  from  the  moment  they  touched  English 
ground,  senor;  for  such  is  English  law." 

"We  are  not  talking  of  law !  though  I  suppose  there  is  as 
much  law  for  slavery  as  there  is  for  smuggling  I  But  the 
less  you  say  about  law  the  better !  So  just  suppose  we  leave 
law  entirely  out  of  the  argument." 

"With  all  my  heart,  senor ;  if  the  senor  desires  it  to  be  left 
out." 

"  'The  senor'  does.  So  now,  then,  we  shall  get  along  bet- 
ter. These  three  negroes  are  at  Castle  Oragg.  At  your  own 
estimation,  the  lot  must  be  worth  eight  thousand  dollars — ■ 
sixteen  hundred  pounds  in  our  money;  now  you  shall  have 
estimation,  the  lot  must  be  worth  eight  thousand  dollars — ■ 
of  your  money;  and  you  will  thereby  make  a  clear  profit  of 
one  thousand  pounds,  or  five  thousand  dollars,  which  is  nearly 
two  hundred  per  cent.     Come,  what  do  you  say  ?" 

"Senor,  we  are  to  leave  law  out  of  the  argument  ?" 

"Of  course." 

"Then,  if  I  had  these  negroes  on  board  this  vessel,  which 
is  to  sail  with  the  morning  tide,  I  would  give  the  senor  his 
price  for  them." 

"You  shall  have  them  all  on  board  within  the  hour." 

"Good !  but,  pardon,  senor !  a  thought  strikes  me !" 

"What  is  it?" 

"Since  these  negroes  are  favorite  servants  of  the  illustrioug 
senora  ?" 

"What  then?" 

"She  will  not  consent  to  part  with  them!" 

"Her  consent  is  as  unnecessary  as  the  sanction  of  the  law  I 
It  is  just  because  they  are' favorite  servants — petted,  pam- 
pered and  spoiled  servants — that  I  wish  to  part  with  them. 
Such  servants  are  nuisances  in  tlie  family  circle." 

_  "The  senor  is  right !  always  right !  but — shall  we  have  any 
difficulty  with  the  negroes?" 

"None  whatever !    You  will  take  them  in  their  beds.'* 

"Will  thay  not  make  an  outcry  and  bring  the  house  upon 
us?" 

"My  excellent  but  too  cautious  friend !  did  you  never  Heai^ 
of  chloroform?" 

"Surely,  sefior." 

"It  is  one  of  the  greatest  blessings  modern  science  has  con- 
ferred upon  us.  It  not  only  saves  much  pain  in  surgical  op- 
erations, but  in  other  operations  it  actually  saves  life.    The 


124  The  Castle  Vault. 

experienced  burglar  now,  when  he  enters  a  house  for  the 
purpose  of  robbery,  instead  of  cutting  the  throat  of  a  wakeful 
inmate,  simply  administers  chloroform  and  soothes  his  rest- 
lessness so  perfectly  that  he  falls  into  a  happy  state  of  in- 
sensibility, while  he,  the  burglar,  pursues  his  calling  undis- 
turbed and  at  leisure." 

"Well,  eenor?" 

"Well,  don't  you  understand  ?  I  will  conduct  you  and  such 
of  your  men  as  you  can  trust  to  the  castle,  admit  you  secretly, 
lead  you  to  the  bedsides  of  the  negroes,  who  are  sure  at  this 
hour  to  be  in  a  deep  sleep,  administer  the  chloroform  to 
Bend  them  into  a  deeper  one,  and  so  transport  them  to  the 
vessel." 

"And  by  that  time  we  will  be  ready  to  raise  anchor  and  sail. 
'And  when  our  sleepers  awake  we  shall  be  safely  on  our  way 
to  Cuba!" 

"Exactly!  But  no  time  is  to  be  lost !  Will  you  go  now ?" 
inquired  the  viscount,  rising. 

"Certainly,"  said  the  captain,  and  he  went  on  deck  to  or- 
der the  boat  manned  to  go  on  shore. 

In  a  few  minutes  it  was  reported  ready,  and  the  captain,  the 
mate  and  two  sailors,  whom  they  supposed  they  could  rely 
upon,  entered  it. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  they  reached  the  shore  and  left  the 
boat. 

"Leave  the  two  sailors  here  with  the  boat!  the  mate  will 
be  sufficient  for  ov  ;■  pui'pose,"  said  the  viscount. 

The  captain  gave  the  necessary  directions  to  the  boatmen. 

Lord  Vincent,  Captain  Costo  and  Paolo  went  up  the  narrow 
pass  leading  to  the  top  of  the  cliff  and  entered  the  castle 
court-yard, 

"Your  boots  are  heavy;  they  might  awaken  the  household, 
even  at  this  hour  of  its  deepest  sleep;  you  must  put  them 
off  here,"  whispered  the  viscount. 

It  was  no  sooner  said  than  done.  The  men  cast  off  both 
shoes  and  stockings  and  stood  in  their  bare  feet. 

"We  must  keep  them  dry  to  put  on  again,"  said  the  mate, 
fis  he  stuffed  the  stockings  into  the  boots. 

Then,  silent  as  death,  they  stole  into  the  castle  and  glided 
along  the  dark,  deserted  halls  and  up  its  staircases. 

The  viscount  paused  before  the^oor  of  Mrs.  Dugald's  bou- 
doir, and  taking  the  maid's  pass-key  from  its  hiding  place, 
softly  unlocked  and  entered  the  room,  beckoning  his  com- 
panions in  crime  to  follow. 

Silently  he  stole  across  the  room,  drew  aside  the  crimson- 
Batin  hangings,  exposed  the  oak-paneled  walls  and  touched  a 
spring. 

A  secret  door  opened,  revealing  a  narrow  flight  of  stairs, 
ffiiaking  a  sign  for  his  companions  to  follow,  he  descended. 


The  Castle  Vault.  125 

Down  many  narrow  flights  of  stairs,  through  many  wind- 
ing labyrinths,  along  many  dark  passages,  the  sailors  fol- 
lowed their  leader,  until,  far  down  in  the  deepest  foundations 
of  the  castle,  they  reached  a  large,  circular  stone  crypt,  with 
many  rusted  iron  doors  around  it,  leading  into  little  dun- 
geons. On  one  side  of  this  horrible  place  was  a  rude,  stone 
altar  with  an  iron  crucifix.  In  the  centre  was  a  block.  It 
was  probably  a  vault  which  in  the  old  and  dark  ages  had  been 
used  for  a  place  of  secret  imprisonments,  executions  and 
burials. 

Lord  Vincent  flashed  his  lantern  around  upon  the  scene 
and  then  went  up  to  one  of  the  grated  doors,  unfastened  it 
and  entered  the  dungeon. 

It  was  a  small,  stone  cavity,  a  hard  hole,  where  it  seemed 
impossible  for  a  human  being  to  live  and  breathe  for  an  hour. 
And  yet  poor  old  Katie,  with  the  wonderful  tenacity  of  life 
which  belongs  to  the  pure  African,  had  clung  to  existence 
there  ever  since  the  hour  when,  seeming  dead,  she  had  been 
dragged  from  the  apartments  of  Faustina  to  this  deep  and 
hideous  vault. 

So,  you  see,  he  had  deceived  Faustina  into  the  belief  that 
Katie  had  died  in  the  vault  from  the  effect  of  chloroform. 

By  the  dim  light  of  the  lantern  her  form  could  now  be  seen 
squatted  in  the  corner  of  the  dungeon.  Her  knees  were 
drawn  up,  her  arms  folded  on  them,  and  her  head  buried  in 
them.  She  had  fallen  asleep,  probably  after  long  watching 
and  fasting  and  the  effects  of  mental  and  physical  exhaus- 
tion.    The  entrance  of  the  viscount  did  not  awaken  her. 

"This  is  the  woman;  I  was  obliged  to  confine  her  here  for 
a  violent  assault  upon  a  lady  of  my  family.  She  is  fast 
asleep,  but  to  attempt  to  move  her  might  awaken  her;  so  we 
will  make  all  sure  by  sending  her  into  a  deeper  sleep,"  whis- 
pered the  viscount,  drawing  from  his  pocket  first  a  bottle  of 
chloroform  and  then  a  piece  of  sponge,  which  he  proceeded  to 
saturate  with  the  liquid. 

But  it  required  tact  to  apply  it.  Katie's  face  was  buried  in 
her  arms.  So  he  first  put  the  lantern  out  of  the  way,  where 
it  could  not  shine  upon  her,  and  then  went  and  gently  lifted 
Katie's  head  with  one  hand  while  he  approached  the  sponge 
near  her  nose  with  the  other. 

**Yes,  chile;  I  tink  so,  too — my  ladyship — ^whited  salt- 
petre— ^Bottomy  Bay,"  muttered  Katie,  who  was  sleeping  the 
deep  sleep  of  her  race,  and  probably  dreaming  of  her  lady  and 
her  lady's  dangers. 

The  viscount  laid  her  head  back  on  his  own  breast,  put  the 
chloroform  sponge  to  her  nose,  and  fitted  his  own  slouch  hat 
over  her  face  in  such  a  manner  as  to  confine  the  fumes. 

Poor  old  Katie's  wide  nostrils  soon  inhaled  the  whole  of 


126  The  Castle  Vault. 

the  deadly  vapor,  which  acted  with  uuusual  power  upon  her 
exhausted  frame,  so  that  she  speedily  lay  as  one  dead. 

''Take  her  upl  make  haste!  There  is  a  shorter  way  out 
of  tL^s  vault,  but  I  could  not  bring  you  here  by  it  because 
it  is  fastened  on  this  bide,"  said  the  viscount,  leaving  the 
den. 

The  captain  and  mate  went  in  and  raised  old  Katie's  unre- 
sisting form  in  their  arms,  and  followed  the  viscount,  who 
led  them  from  the  vault  into  a  long,  stone  passage,  at  the 
etnd  of  which  was  a  door,  fastened  on  the  inside  with  a  chain 
and  padlock. 

The  viscount  unlocked  this  door,  which  opened  out  into  a 
rocky  cave,  through  which  they  passed  to  an  intricate,  wind- 
ing and  rugged  labyrinth,  which  finally  led  out  into  the  open 
aix,  on  the  beach  near  which  the  boat  was  left. 

The  captain  and  mate  laid  down  their  burden,  and  stretched 
their  limbs  and  took  a  long  breath. 

The  viscount  beckoned  the  boatmen  to  approach.  And  they 
came. 

Then,  turning  to  the  captain,  he  said: 

"You  had  better  order  these  men  to  take  this  woman  im- 
mediately to  the  boat,  and  carry  her  across  to  the  vessel,  and 
lock  her  up  in  some  place  of  safety.  Then  they  can  retura 
for  us  1  and  in  the  meantime  we  will  return  to  the  castle  for 
the  other  two." 

"Yea,  seiior,"  said  the  captain;  and  he  promptly  gave  the 
order. 

The  viscount  waited  until  he  saw  Katie  safely  in  the  boat 
and  half  across  on  her  way  to  the  vessel,  and  then  he  beck- 
oned his  companions  to  follow  him,  and  led  the  way  back  to 
the  castle. 

This  time  he  conducted  them  to  an  old  turret  that  had  been 
appointed  to  the  use  of  Lady  Vincent's  servants;  it  was  re- 
mote from  the  sleeping  apartments  of  the  other  domestics. 
The  old  locks  were  without  keys. 

"We  will  take  the  man  first,"  said  Lord  Vincent^  softly 
opening  an  old  oaken  door,  and  leading  them  into  a  small, 
circular  room,  scantily  furnished,  where,  upon  a  rude  bedsted, 
lay  poor  Jem  in  profound  slumber.  He  was  a  fine  subject 
for  their  villainous  practices.  He  was  lying  on  his  back, 
with  his  head  stretched  back  over  hia  pillow,  his  eyes  fast 
closed  and  his  mouth  wide  open.  One  touching  incident  in 
the  appearance  of  this  poor  fellow  was  the  presence  of  two 
large  tears  on  his  cheeks.  He  had  probably  lain  awake  all 
night,  and  just  cried  himself  to  sleep  over  the  fate  of  the 
mother  whom  his  loyal  heart  loved  so  faithfully. 

The  viscount  applied  the  chloroform,  and  Jem's  sleep  sunk 
into  insensibility. 

The  captain  and  the  i^ate  then  raised  him  in  their  anna 


The  Castle  Vault.  izy 

And  bore  lilm  from  the  room  and  through  the  many  passages 
and  down  the  many  stairs,  and  along  the  great  hall  to  the 
outside  of  the  castle. 

They  had  a  hard  time  getting  him  down  the  cliff.  But 
they  accomplished  the  task  at  last.  They  found  the  boat  re- 
turned and  the  boatmen  waiting  impatiently  for  their  ar- 
rival, 

"Captain !  the  tide  serves,"  said  one  of  these  men. 

"I  know  it,  Jacques.  We  will  sail  in  half  an  hour.  Where 
did  you  put  the  woman  ?" 

"I  locked  her  in  your  cabin  for  the  present,  captain." 

"Did  she  recover  her  senses  ?" 

"No,  captain !" 

"The  devil !    I  hope  she  won't  die !" 

"No  danger,  Costo!  they  remain  insensible  under  the  in- 
fluence of  chloroform  sometimes  for  hours,  and  then  recover 
in  a  better  condition  than  they  were  before,"  said  the  vis- 
count, hazarding  an  opinion  on  a  subject  of  which  he  knew 
very  little.  "But,  now,  order  the  sailors  to  convey  this  man 
to  the  vessel,  and  then  return  once  more  for  us." 

"Pardon,  senor!  We  had  better  bind  him  first.  If  he 
should  recover  before  he  reaches  the  vessel  he  might  jmnp  out 
and  make  his  escape,"  replied  the  captain,  drawing  n  large, 
silk  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and  tying  the  hands  of  the 
captive  firmly  behind  his  back. 

"Lend  me  yours,  Paolo,"  he  next  requested,  holding  his 
Band  out  for  the  required  article. 

With  this  second  handkerchief  twisted  into  a  rope,  the  cap- 
tain firmly  tied  together  the  feet  of  his  captive. 

Jem  was  now  as  effectually  bound  as  if  his  fetters  had  been 
iron  or  rope ;  but  he  was  beginning  to  show  signs  of  recovery. 

The  viscount  saw  this  and  applied  the  chloroform  again, 
and  Jem  relapsed  into  insensibility. 

In  this  condition  he  was  conveyed  into  the  boat  and  rowed 
swiftly  to  the  vessel. 

Meanwhile  Lord  Vincent  and  his  confederates  in  crime  re- 
traced their  steps  up  the  cliff. 

"We  must  be  very  quick  this  time,  for  the  household  will 
soon  be  astir,"  whispered  Lord  Vincent,  eagerly,  as  he  noticed 
on  the  eastern  horizon  the  faint  dawn  of  the  late  winter 
morning. 

They  entered  the  castle,  which,  luckily  for  them,  was  stiU 
buried  in  repose,  and  wound  their  circuitous  way  back  to  the 
turret,  where  the  last  victim,  poor  Sally,  lay.  r 

The  viscount  opened  the  oaken  door  and  preceded  his  com- 
fanions  into  her  chamber. 

But,  oh,  horror !  Sally  was  awake  and  up  I  She  was  seated 
on  the  side  of  her  bed,  and  in  the  act  of  putting  on  her  shoes. 


X28  The  End  of  Claudia's  Pride. 

On  seeing  the  viscount  enter  she  raised  her  eyes  and  gaze^ 
in  dxxmb  amazement. 

He  lost  no  time !  Like  a  wild  beast  he  sprang  upon  her  be- 
fore she  could  utter  a  cry. 

Throwing  one  arm  around  her  throat,  with  its  hand  upon 
her  mouth,  he  forced  her  head  back  against  his  breast  and 
applied  the  chloroform  until  she  succumbed  to  its  fatal  power 
and  sunk  like  a  corpse  in  his  arms. 

Then  his  two  accomplices  took  her,  and  by  the  same  wind- 
ing route  of  halls,  stairs  and  passages  carried  her  out  of  the 
castle  and  down  to  the  beach,  where  the  boat  was  waiting  to 
receive  her. 

They  put  her  into  it,  and  the  viscount,  the  captain  and  the 
mate  followed. 

In  three  minutes  they  reached  the  vessel,  and  all  were  on 
board,  taking  the  captive  girl  with  them. 

The  viscount  accompanied  the  captain  to  his  little  office 
and  received  the  six  hundred  pounds  in  gold,  which  was  the 
price  of  his  last  infamy. 

Then  the  accomplices  shook  hands  and  parted. 

The  sailors  rowed  the  viscount  back  to  the  shore,  and  then 
returned  to  their  vessel. 

The  viscount  stood  on  the  beach,  watching  the  brigantine 
until  she  raised  her  anchor  and  made  sail. 

And  then,  as  it  was  growing  light,  he  turned  and  climbed 
'ih.Q  cliff  and  entered  the  castle,  wearing  a  smile  of  triumph. 


CHAPTEK  XX. 

THE  END  OF  CLAUDIA's  PRIDE. 

Softer  a  sleepless  night,  whose  lonely  anguish  would  have 
driven  almost  any  woman  who  was  compelled  to  endure  it 
mad,  Claudia  arose  and  rang  her  bell. 

No  one  answered  it. 

Too  impatient  to  wait  for  the  tardy  attendance  of  het  serv- 
ants, Claudia  thrust  her  feet  into  slippers,  drew  on  her  dress- 
ing-gown, and  went  and  opened  the  window-shutters  to  let  in 
the  morning  light.     Then  she  rang  again. 

Still  no  one  obeyed  the  summons. 

She  was  not  alarmed.  Even  with  the  knowledge  of  what 
had  gone  before,  she  felt  no  uneasiness.  She  went  to  the 
dressing-glass  and  loosened  her  hair,  and  let  it  fall  all  over 
her  shoulders  to  relieve  her  burning  head.  And  then  she 
bathed  her  face  in  cold  water.  She  was  impatient  to  make 
her  toilet  and  leave  the  castle. 

She  knew  that  all  was  over  with  her  worldly  grandeur ;  that 
all  hoi  jjlsndid  dreams  had  vanished  forever;  that  obscurity. 


The  Knd  of  Claudia's  Pride.  129 

perhaps  deepoied  by  degradalloi:,  was  all  that  awaited  her  in 
the  future. 

She  rang  her  bell  a  third  time,  and  more  sharply  than  be- 
fore. 

After  a  few  minutes  it  was  answered  by  the  housekeeper, 
who  entered  with  her  customary  respectful  courtesy. 

"She  had  not  heard  of  last  night's  scandal,"  thought  Clau- 
dia, as  she  noticed  the  dame's  unaltered  manner. 

"I  have  rung  three  times,  Mrs.  Murdock.  Why  has  not  my 
maid  come  I'p  ?"  she  inquired. 

"Indeed,  me  leddy,  I  dinna  ken.  I  ha'  na  seen  the  lass  the 
morn,"  answered  the  woman. 

"What !  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Sally  has  not  made 
her  appearance  this  morning  ?" 

"Indeed  and  she  ha'  na,  me  leddy." 

"Mrs.  Murdock,  pray  go  at  once  to  her  room  and  see  if  she 
is  there." 

The  housekeeper  went  away,  and  after  an  absence  of  fifteen 
minutes  returned  to  say  that  Sally  was  not  in  her  room. 

"But  I  dinna  think  she  is  far  awa',  me  leddy,  because  her 
bed  is  all  tumbled,  as  if  she  was  just  out  of  it.  And  her 
shoes  and  clothes  are  lying  there,  just  as  she  put  them  off." 

"I  will  dress  and  go  and  make  inquiries  myself.  This 
house  is  a  place  of  mysterious  disappearances.  I  wonder  if 
the  beach  below  is  of  quicksand,  and  does  it  swallow  people 
up  alive?" 

"I  dinna  ken,  me  leddy,"  gravely  answered  the  dame. 

"Mrs.  Murdock,  can  you  help  me  to  dress  ?" 

"Surely,  me  leddy,"  said  the  housekeeper,  approaching 
Claudia  with  so  much  respectful  affection  that  the  unhappy 
Jady  said  once  more  to  herself: 

"She  knows  nothing  of  last  night's  work." 

And  then  Claudia,  who  was  much  too  high-spirited  and  sin- 
cere to  receive  attentions  rendered  by  the  dame  in  ignorance 
of  that  night's  scandal,  which  she  might  not  have  so  kindly 
rendered  had  she  known  of  them,  said : 

"Mrs.  Murdock,  do  you  know  what  happened  last  night?'* 

"Ay,  surely,  me  leddy,  I  ken  a'  about  it,  if  your  leddyship 
means  the  fause  witness  0'  that  de'il  Frisbie,"  said  the  house- 
keeper, growing  red  with  emotion. 

"It  was  a  false  witness !  a  base,  wicked,  infamous  calumny  I 
I  think  the  more  highly  of  you,  Mrs.  Murdock,  for  so  quickly 
detecting  this !  And  I  thank  you !"  said  Claudia,  with  diffi- 
culty restraining  the  tears,  which  for  the  first  time  since  her 
great  wrong  were  ready  to  burst  from  her  eyes. 

Later  that  morning  the  information  was  brought  to  Claudia 
by  Mrs.  Murdock  that  Jem  was  also  unaccountably  missing. 
lOvercome  with  wonder  and  alarm  by  the  distressing  mtelli-> 


130  The  End  of  Claudia's  Pride. 

gence,  Lady  Vincent  was  almost  on  the  verge  of  collapse, 
when  she  was  aroused  by  a  rap  at  the  door. 

Mrs.  Murdock  opened  it. 

Lord  Vincent's  footman  stood  there. 

"My  lord  sends  his  compliments  to  my  lady,  and  says  that 
the  carriage  is  waiting  to  take  her  from  the  castle;  the  tide 
is  rising,  which  will  render  the  road  impassable  for  several 
hoTirs ;  and  he  hopes  she  will  take  that  fact  into  consideration 
and  not  delay  her  departure." 

"  'Delay  V  I  am  only  to  glad  to  go !  But  oh,  my  poor, 
faithful  servants !  Mrs.  Murdock,  tell  the  man  to  send  somo 
one  up  here  to  carry  my  trunk  down,"  said  Lady  Vincent, 
hastily  putting  on  her  sable  cloak  and  tying  on  her  bonnet. 

Her  heart  ached  at  the  thought  of  abandoning  her  ser- 
vants; and  she  only  reconciled  herself  to  the  measure  by  re- 
flecting that  to  lodge  information  with  the  detective  police  at 
Banff  would  really  be  the  best  means  she  could  possibly  take 
■  for  their  recovery. 

When  two  of  the  men-servants  had  carried  down  her  trunk. 
Lady  Vincent  shook  hands  with  the  kind-hearted  house- 
keeper, and  prepared  to  follow  them.  In  taking  leave  of 
Mrs.  -  Murdock^  she  said: 

"I  thank  you  sincerely  for  your  kindness  to  the  strangers 
that  came  to  your  hand.  You  are  really  the  only  friend  that 
I  and  my  unfortunate  servants  have  met  since  our  arrival 
in  this  country;  and  I  shall  not  forget  you!" 

The  housekeeper  wept. 

"When  my  poor  servants  reappear — if  ever  they  should  do 
so — you  will  be  so  good  as  to  send  them  to  me  at  Edinboro'. 
Send  them  to  the  railway  office,  where  I  will  leave  my  ad- 
dress." 

"Ay,  me  leddy,  I  will  na  forget,"  sobbed  the  old  dame. 

Claudia  pressed  her  hand,  dropped  it  and  went  below.      * 

In  crossing  the  central  hall,  toward  the  principal  entrance, 
Claudia  suddenly  stopped,  as  though  the  Gorgon's  head  had 
blasted  her  sight.  For  Lord  Vincent  stood  near  the  open 
door,  as  if  to  witness    and  triumph  over  her  expulsion. 

With  a  stvong  effort  she  conquered  her  weakness,  and  ap- 
proached the  door. 

The  viscount  made  a  low  and  mocking  bow  and  stepped 
aside. 

Claudia  confronted  him. 

"My  lord,"  she  said,  "you  think  you  have  very  successfully 
conspired  against  my  honor;  but  if  there  is  justice  on  earth, 
or  in  heaven,  you  will  yet  be  exposed  and  punished." 

Lord  Vincent  made  her  an  ironical  bow;  but  no  other  re- 
ply- 

"Where  are  my  servants  ?"  she  inquired,  solemnly. 


The  End  of  Claudia^s  Pride.  131 ' 

**I  am  not  their  manager,  my  lady,  that  I  should  b@  con 
vei"sant  with  their  movements  I"  answered  the  viscount,  dis* 
dainfully. 

"My  lord,  you  well  know  where  they  are !  And  if  heavaa 
eliould  bless  my  efforts  this  morning,  the  world  shall  sooa 
know  1" 

"My  lady,  the  door  is  open;  the  north  wind  rather  pierc- 
ing. Will  you  please  to  pass  out  and  let  me  close  it?"  said 
his  lordship,  holding  the  door  wide  open  for  her  exit. 

"Will  you  tell  me  where  my  servants  are  ?"  persisted  Clau- 
dia. 

"I  do  not  know,  my  lady!  They  have  probably  stolen  the 
plate  and  gone  1  I  will  ask  the  butler,  and  if  it  is  so,  I  will 
put  the  constables  on  their  track,"  said  Lord  Vincent,  bow- 
ing and  waving  his  hand  toward  the  door. 

"I  leave  you  to  the  justice  of  heaven,  evil  man  I"  replied 
Claudia,  as  she  passed  through  and  left  the  castle.  She  en- 
tered the  carriage  and  was  driven  off. 

Lord  Vincent  closed  the  door  behind  her  and  then  went 
into  the  breakfast-room,  where  the  cloth  was  already  laid. 

Neither  Mrs.  MacDonald  nor  Mrs.  Dugald  had  yet  come 
down.  They  seemed  to  be  sleeping  late  after  their  disturbed 
night. 

Presently,  however,  they  entered — Mrs.  MacDonald  look- 
ing very  much  embarrassed,  Faustina  pale  as  death. 

Lord  Vincent  received  them  with  grave  politeness,  and 
they  all  sat  down  to  the  table. 

It  was  then  Lord  Vincent  who  said : 

^^Mrs.  MacDonald,  Lady  Vincent  has  this  morning  left 
this  house,  upon  which  she  has  brought  so  much  dishonor. 
It  is  also  necessary  for  me  to  go  to  London  to  take  meas- 
ures for  the  dissolution  of  my  marriage.  I  am,  therefore, 
about  to  ask  of  you  a  great  favor." 

"Ask  any  you  please,  my  lord.  I  am  very  anxious  to  be  of 
service  to  you  in  this  awful  crisis.  And  I  will  gladly  do  all 
in  my  power  to  help  you,"  replied  this  very  complaisant  lady. 

"I  thank  you,  madam !  I  thank  you  very  much !  The  fa- 
vor I  had  to  ask  of  you  is  this — that  you  will  kindly  remain 
with  Mrs.  Dugald,  until  some  plan  is  formed  for  her  future 
residence." 

"Surely,  my  lord,  I  will  remain  with  great  pleasure,"  an- 
swered this  needy  lady,  who  was  only  too  glad  to  leave  for  S 
season  the  straitened  home  of  her  married  sister,  and  take  up 
her  abode  in  this  plentiful  establishment. 

"Again  I  thank  you,  madam ;  fchank  you  cordially  on  the 
part  of  my  widowed  sister  as  well  as  on  my  own  part,"  said 
the  viscounty  courteouslv. 
9 


132       The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceiix, 

And  this  point  being  settled,  tlie  party  dispersed. 

Mrs.  MacDonald  retired  to  lier  own  apartments  to  write  a 
note  to  her  sister,  requesting  that  her  effects  might  be  for- 
warded to  Castle  Cragg. 

Mrs.  Dugald  went  to  her  boudoir  to  await  there  in  feverish 
impatience  the  arrival  of  the  viscount. 

He  did  not  keep  her  long  in  suspense;  he  soon  entered, 
locked  the  door  behind  him,  and  seated  himself  beside  her. 

"She  is  gone;  really  gone?"  whispered  Faustina,  in  a  low, 
eager,  breathless  voiee. 

"Yes,  my  angel ;  you  heard  me  say  so." 

"Eeally  and  truly  gone?" 

"Really  and  truly!" 

"Oh!  I  am  so  glad!  And  her  servants?  Ah!  I  alwayi 
hated  those  blacks !     She  has  not  left  them  behind  ?" 

"Certainly  not,"  answered  the  viscount,  evasively. 

"Ah !  what  a  relief !    The  house  is  well  rid  of  them." 

"It  is,  indeed,  my  love !" 

"But — but — but — the  dead  hody?"  whispered  the  woman  in 
a  husky  voice,  while  her  eyes  dilated  with  terror. 

"It  is  gone!" 

"Where?    How?" 

"I  tied  a  heavy  weight  to  its  feet  and  sunk  it  in  the  depths 
of  the  sea,"  replied  ijthe  viscount,  who  felt  no  scruples  in  de- 
ceiving any  one,  least  of  all  his  accomplice  in  crime. 

And  this  shows  the  utter  falsity  of  the  absurd  proverb  tha^ 
asserts,  "There  is  honor  among  thieves."  There  can  be  no 
honor  and  no  confidence  in  any  league  wherein  the  bond  is 
guilt. 

Lord  Vincent's  preparations  for  departure  were  soon  made. 
Old  Cuthbert  performed  the  duties  of  valet.  And  punctual- 
ly at  twelve  o'clock  the  viscount  took  leave  of  his  evil  demon 
and  her  chaperone  and  departed  for  Banff,  where  he  took  the 
coach  to  Aberdeen,  at  which  place  he  arrived  in  time  fc 
catch  the  night  train  for  London. 


CHAPTER  XXT. 

THE   COUNTESS    OF    HURSTMONCEUX. 

In  the  meantime  Lady  Vincent  reached  Banff. 

She  drove  at  once  to  the  principal  hotel,  where  she  en- 
gaged a  room  into  which  her  luggage  was  carried. 

With  a  gratuity  to  the  coachman  who  had  driven  her,  she 
dismissed  the  carriage,  which  returned  immediately  to  the 
castle. 

Then  she  ordered  a  fly  and  <?rove  to  the  police-station — at 


The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux.       133 

ttiat  time  a  mean  little  stone  edifice,  exceedingly  repulsive 
without  and  excessively  filthy  within. 

A  crowd  of  disreputable-looking  ragamuffins  of  both  sexea 
and  all  ages  obstructed  the  entrance.  Surely  it  was  a  re- 
volting scene  to  one  of  Lady  Vincent's  fastidious  nature  and 
refined,  habits.  But  she  did  not  shrink  from  her  duty.  She 
made  her  way  through  this  gusting  assemblage,  and  found 
just  within  the  door  a  policeman,  to  whom  she  said : 

"I  wish,  if  you  please,  to  see  your  inspector." 

After  waiting  about  half  an  hour,  she  was  shown  into  a 
private  office,  where  Inspector  Murray  was  seated  at  a  desk.. 
He  arose  to  receive  her  and  handed  her  a  chair,  and  then 
seated  himself  and  respectfully  waited  for  her  to  open  her 
business. 

Lady  Vincent  felt  so  much  embarrassed  that  it  was  some 
time  before  she  spoke.  At  length,  however,  she  took  courage 
to  say: 

"My  errand  here  is  a  very  painful  one,  sir.  Indeed,  it  is 
of  so  strange  and  distressing  a  nature  that  I  scarcely  know 
how  to  explain  it,"  she  said. 

"I  beg  you  will  feel  no  hesitation  in  making  your  com- 
munication, madam.  We  are  accustomed  to  receive  strange 
and  distressing  complaints." 

"Sir,"  said  Claudia,  "the  circumstances  which  have  driven 
me  to  seek  your  aid  occurred  recently  in  Castle  Cragg,  in  the 
family  of  Lord  Vincent." 

"It  is  not  the  murder  that  was  recently  committed  there  to 
which  you  allude?"  gravely  inquired  the  inspector. 

"Oh,  no,  not  that  murder ;  but  I  greatly  fear  there  has  been 
another  one,"  said  Claudia  with  a  shudder. 

"Madam!"  exclaimed  the  inspector,  in  astonishment. 

"I  fear  it  is  as  I  have  hinted,  sir,"  persisted  Claudia. 

"But  who  has  been  murdered  ?" 

"I  suspect  that  a  harmless  old  female  servant,  named  Katie 
Mortimer,  who  became  possessed  of  a  dangerous  secret,  has 
been!" 

"And— by  whom?"  - 

'1  fear  by  a.  woman  called  Faustina  Dugald  and  a  man 
named  Alick  Frisbie!" 

Now,  it  is  very  difficult  to  surprise  or  startle  an  inspector 
of  police.  But  Mr.  Murray  was  really  more  than  surprised 
or  startled.  He  was  shocked  and  appalled,  as  his  counte- 
nance betrayed  when  he  dropped  his  pen  and  fell  back  in  hia 
chair. 

"Madam!"  he  said,  "do  you  know  what  you  are  saying!** 
"Full  well,  sir,  and  I  entreat  you  to  receive  my  statement 
In  detail  and  act  upon  it  with  promptitude.    Tour  own  in- 


^4       The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceu3C 

restigations  will  discover  how  much  cause  I  have  for  my 
suspicious,"  said  Claudia,  firmly. 

The  inspector  drew  some  writing  paper  before  him,  took 
up  his  pen,  and  said : 

"Proceed,  madam,  if  you  please." 

Claudia  commenced  her  statement,  but  was  almost  imme- 
diately interrupted  by  the  inspector,  who  said: 

"Your  name,  madam,  if  you  please." 

Claudia  started  and  blushed  at  her  own  f orgetf ulness ; 
though,  in  truth,  it  had  never  occurred  to  her  to  introduce 
herself  by  name  to  an  inspector  of  police.  Now,  however,  she 
perceived  how  necessary  it  was  that  her  name  should  attend 
her  statement. 

"I  am  Lady  "Vincent,"  she  replied. 

There  was  an  instantaneous  change  in  the  inspector's  man- 
ner. His  deportment  had  been  respectful  from  the  first,  be- 
cause he  had  recognized  his  visitor  as  a  lady ;  but  his  manner 
was  obsequious  now  that  he  heard  she  was  a  titled  lady. 

"I  beg  your  ladyship's  pardon,"  ne  said.  "I  had  no  idea 
that  I  was  honored  with  the  presence  of  Lady  Vincent.  Pray, 
my  lady,  do  not  inconvenience  yourself  in  the  least  by  going 
over  these  painful  things  at  the  present  hour,  unless  you  fell 
that  it  is  really  necessary.  I  could  wait  on  your  ladyship  at 
your  residence  and  receive  your  communication  there." 

"Sir,  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy,  but  I  prefer  to  make 
my  statement  now  and  here,"  replied  Claudia. 

The  inspector  dipped  his  pen  in  ink  and  looked  attentive. 

Claudia  proceeded  with  her  communication.  She  related 
all  the  circumstances  that  had  come  to  her  knowledge  re- 
specting the  disappearance  of  Katie,  and  the  inspector  took 
down  her  words. 

Then  she  mentioned  the  more  recent  vanishment  of  Sally 
and  Jem;  but  she  alluded  to  these  facts  only  as  collateral 
circumstances ;  she  could  not  believe  that  the  two  last  named 
had  lost  their  lives. 

When  the  inspector  had  taken  down  the  whole  of  her  state- 
ment, she  arose  to  go. 

The  inspector  also  arose. 

"Will  you  investigate  this  matter  immediately  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  will  do  so  to-day,  my  lady,"  replied  Mr.  Murray,  bowing 
deferentially. 

"Can  I  be  of  any  assistance  to  you  in  piirsuing  your  in- 
quiry into  this  affair?" 

"Not  at  present,  I  thank  your  ladyship,"  replied  the  in- 
spector, witii  a  second  bow. 

"Then  I  will  bid  you  good-morning." 

'T.  beg  your  ladyship's  pardon;  but  would  your  ladyship 
ieign  to  leave  your  address  with  me  ?  We  might  need  your 
ladyship's  personal  teatimonj^." 


Tlie  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux.       135 

"Certainly,"  said  Claudia.  "I  shall  go  to  Edinboro'  to- 
day, where  I  shall  remain  at  the  best  hotel,  if  you  know  which 
that  is,  for  a  few  days;  before  I  leave  I  will  write  and  ad- 
vise you  of  my  destination.  And  now  there  is  one  important 
part  of  my  errand  that  I  had  nearly  forgotten.  It  was  to  ask 
you  to  advertise  for  the  missing  servants,  and  to  authorize 
you  to  offer  a  reward  of  two  hundred  pounds  for  any  informa- 
tion that  may  lead  to  their  recovery." 

"I  will  do  it  immediately,  my  lady,"  replied  Inspector  Mur- 
ray, as  he  obsequiously  attended  Lady  Vincent  to  the  door 
and  put  her  into  the  fly. 

She  drove  quickly  back  to  her  hotel,  where  she  had  only 
time  to  take  a  slight  luncheon  before  starting  in  the  eleven 
o'clock  coach  for  Aberdeen,  where,  after  four  hours'  ride 
through  a  wildly  picturesque  country,  she  arrived  just  in 
time  to  take  the  afternoon  train  to  Edinboro'.  It  was  the  ex- 
press train,  and  reached  the  old  city  at  seven  o'clock  that 
evening. 

Among  the  many  hotels,  whose  handbills,  pasted  on  the 
walls  of  the  railway  station,  claimed  the  attention  of  travel- 
ers, Claudia  selected  "MacGruder's,"  because  it  was  opposite 
Scott's  monument. 

She  took  a  cab  and  drove  there.  She  liked  the  appearance 
of  the  house,  and  engaged  a  comfortable  suite  of  apartments, 
consisting  of  a  parlor,  bed-chamber  ^nd  bath-room,  and  or- 
dered dinner. 

Now,  by  all  the  rules  of  tradition,  Claudia,  ignominiously 
expelled  from  her  husband's  house;  deprived  of  her  servants' 
attendance;  far  from  all  her  friends;  alone  in  a  stvange  ho- 
tel in  a  foreign  city ;  with  a  degrading  trial  tnreatening  her ; 
Claudia,  I  say,  ought  to  have  been  very  unhappy. 

But  she  wag  not !    She  was  almost  happy  !- 

Her  spirits  rebounded  from  their  long  depression.  Her 
sensations  were  those  of  escape,  freedom,  independence !  SJi® 
felt  like  a  bird  freed  from  its  cage;  a  prisoner  released  from 
captivity ;  a  soul  delivered  from  purgatory !  Oh,  she  was  so 
glad — so  glad  to  get  away  entirely,  to  get  away  forever — 
from  that  hold  of  sin,  that  Castle  Cragg,  where  she  had  been 
buried  alive  so  long !  where  she  had  lived  in  torment  among 
lost  spirits!  where  the  monotony  had  been  like  the  gloom  of 
the  grave,  and  the  guilt  like  the  corruption  of  death! 

She  had  passed  through  the  depths  of  Hades,  and  was 
happy — how  happy! — to  rise  to  the  upper  air  again  and  see 
the  stars.  This,  only,  was  enough  for  the  present.  And  she 
scarcely  thought  of  the  future.  Whatever  that  unknown  fu- 
ture might  bring  her,  it  would  not  bring  back  Castle  Cragg, 
Lord  Vincent,  Faustina,  or  Frisbie! 

After  she  had  refreshed  herself  with  a  bath  and  a  change 


136       The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux. 

of  dress,  she  went  into  her  parlor,  where  she  found  a  warni 
fire,  a  bright  light,  and  a  neatly  laid  table. 

And  whatever  you  may  think  of  her,  she  really  enjoyed  her 
boiled  salmon,  roasted  moor-hen,  and  cabinet  custard,  she 
had  ordered  for  dinner. 

After  the  service  was  removed,  she  sat  comfortably  in  her 
easy-chair  before  the  fire,  and  reflected  on  her  future  move- 
ments. 

She  liked  her  quarters  in  this  hotel  very  much.  The  rooms 
were  clean  and  comfortable ;  the  servants  were  polite  and  at- 
tentive; the  meals  delicately  prepared  and  elegantly  served. 

And  she  resolved  to  remain  here  for  the  present;  to  write 
to  her  father  by  the  first  American  mail ;  and  while  waiting 
for  his  answer,  beguile  the  interval  by  seeing  everything  that 
was  interesting  in  the  city  and  in  the  surrounding  country. 

And  in  a  locality  so  rich  in  historical  monuments  as  this 
was,  she  was  sure  of  interesting  occupation  for  the  month 
that  must  intervene  before  she  would  hear  from  her  father, 
in  answer  to  the  letter  which  she  meant  to  write. 

She  had  brought  with  her  from  Castle  Cragg  all  the  ready 
money  she  had;  it  was  something  more  than  two  hundred 
pounds ;  so  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear  from  financial  em- 
barrassments. 

After  settling  this  matter  to  her  satisfaction,  Claudia,  feel- 
ing very  tired,  went  to  bed,  and  having  lost  two  nights'  rest, 
immediately  fell  into  a  deep  and  dreamless  sleep  that  lasted, 
unbroken,  until  morning. 

_  Her  first  sensation  on  awakening  from  this  sleep  of  ob- 
livion to  the  consciousness  of  her  altered  circumstances  was 
■ — not  humiliation  at  her  ovm  unmerited  dishonor — not  dread 
of  the  impending,  degrading  trial — but  pleasure  at  the  recol- 
lection that  she  was  free!  that  she  was  away  from  Castle 
Cragg!  that  she  would  not  have  to  meet  Lord  Vincent  and 
Faustina  at  breakfast!  that  she  would  never  have  to  meet 
them  again! 

Ah!  only  those  who  have  been  compelled  for  months  to 
breathe  the  vitiated  atmosphere  of  guilt,  can  appreciate  the 
excess  of  Claudia's  joy  at  her  deliverance.  It  was  a  joy  that 
not  even  the  distressing  circumstances  that  surrounded  her, 
and  the  trial  that  awaited  her,  had  any  power  to  destroy. 

To  one  who  knew  her  position,  without  being  able  to  enter 
into  her  feelings,  it  would  have  seemed  an  extravagant,  an 
unnatural,  an  insane  joy!  Perhaps  she  was  a  little  insane; 
she  had  had  enough  trouble  to  derange  her  reason. 

She  arose  gladly.  She  had  a  motive  for  rising  now.  For- 
merly, at  Castle  Cragg,  she  had  none;  because  she  had  noth- 
ing to  do.  Now  she  had  to  order  her  breakfast,  write  to  her 
father  and  drivo  round  end  see  the  old  city. 


The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux.       137 

She  dressed  herself  quickly  and  went  into  the  parlor. 

The  windows  were  already  opened,  and  the  fire  lighted  and 
the  breakfast  table  laid. 

She  went  to  the  windows  and  looked  out.  The  morning 
was  clear  and  bright.  It  seemed  to  her  that  even  nature  sym- 
pathized in  her  deliverance.  The  winter  sun  shone  down 
brightly  upon  Scott's  monument,  that  stood  within  its  en- 
closure in  the  middle  of  the  space  before  her  windows. 
*    Yes !  she  was  pleased  with  her  quarters. 

She  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  breakfast,  which  was  prompt- 
ly served. 

When  she  had  finished  her  morning  meal  and  sent  the  ser- 
vice away,  she  got  her  writing-case  from  her  trunk  and  sat 
down  to  write  to  her  father  and  give  him  a  detailed  account 
of  her  misfortunes. 

But  she  found  a  difficulty  in  arranging  her  thoughts;  her 
mind  was  in  too  excitable  a  condition  to  admit  of  close  ap- 
plication.   She  commenced,  and  discarded  letter  after  'letter. 

Finally,  she  gave  up  trying  to  write  for  the  present.  There 
was  time  enough;  the  foreign  mail,  she  had  ascertained,  did 
not  close  until  six  o'clock  in  the  evening.  She  thought  a 
drive  through  the  old  city  would  work  off  her  excitement  and 
tranquillize  her  nerves.  She  rang  and  ordered  a  fly,  and 
drove  out. 

First  she  went  to  Holyrood,  and  soon  lost  all  consciousness 
of  her  own  present  and  individual  troubles  in  dreaming  of  all 
those  princes,  heroes  and  beauties  of  history  who  had  lived 
and  sinned  or  suffered  within  those  old  palace  walls. 

She  went  into  Queen  Mary's  rooms,  and  fell  into  a  reverie 
over  that  fatal  bed-chamber,  which  remains  to  this  day  in 
the  same  condition  in  which  it  was  left  by  the  hapless  queen 
about  three  hundred  years  ago.  She  saw  the  steep,  dark, 
narrow,  secret  staircase,  with  its  opening  concealed  behind 
the  tapestry,  up  which  the  assassins  of  Rizzio  had  crept  to 
their  murderous  work.  She  saw  the  little  turret  closet  in 
which  the  poor  queen  was  at  supper  with  her  ladies  when  the 
minstrel  was  surprised  and  massacred  in  her  presence. 

She  went  into  the  great  picture-gallery,  where  hung  the 
portraits  of  Scottish  kings — -each  mother's  royal  son  painted 
with  a  large  curled  proboscis — "a  nose  like  a  door-knocker," 
as  some  one  described  it — with  one  exception! — that  of 
James  IV.,  the  hapless  hero  of  Flodden  Field.  It  was  a  full- 
length  portrait,  life-sized,  and  full  of  fire!  Claudia  stood 
and  gazed  upon  it  with  delight.  She  was  charmed  by  its 
beauty,  and  by  the  lines  that  it  brought  distinctly  to  her  rec- 
ollection. Whether  this  was  really  a  faithful  portrait  of 
King  James  or  not,  it  certainly  was  an  accurate  likeness  of 
the  hero  described  by  the  poet* 


138       The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux. 

"The  monarch's  form  was  middle  size; 
For  feat  of  strength  or  exercise 

Shaped  in  proportion  fair; 
And  hazel  was  his  eagle  eye, 
And  auburn  of  the  darkest  dye 

His  short  curled  beard  and  hair. 
Light  was  his  footstep  in  the  danc© 

And  firm  his  stirrup  in  the  lists; 
And  oh !  he  had  that  merry  glance 

That  seldom  lady's  heart  resists." 

Yes!  there  he  stood  before  her,  pictured  to  the  very  lifel 
all  luminous  with  youth  and  love;  chivalry  and  royalty; 
bending  graciously  from  the  canvas,  smiling  upon  the  spec- 
tator, and  seeming  about  to  step  forward  and  take  her  hand! 

Claudia  turned  away  from  this  picture,  feeling  at  the 
same  moment  both  pleased  and  saddened. 

She  had  spent  three  hours  dreaming  among  the  ancient 
walls  and  bowers  of  Holyrood,  and  now  she  felt  that  it  was 
time  for  her  to  return  to  the  hotel — especially  as  the  palace 
was  beginning  to  be  filled  with  the  usual  daily  inflowing  of 
sight-seers,  and  she  felt  much  fatigued  and  worried  by  th« 
crowd. 

So  she  went  out  and  re-entered  her  cab,  and  was  driven 
back  to  the  hotel. 

Here  an  unexpected  misfortune  awaited  her.  As  she  left 
the  cab  she  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket  to  take  out  her  purs© 
and  pay  the  cabman. 

It  was  gone ! 

She  turned  sick  with  apprehension,  for  the  loss  of  this 
purse,  which  contained  all  the  money  she  had  brought  with 
her,  was,  under  the  circumstances,  a  serious  calamity. 

She  hurried  again  into  the  cab  and  searched  it  thorough- 
ly; but  no  purse  was  to  be  found. 

Then  the  truth  burst  upon  her!  She  had  been  robbed  of 
it  by  some  one  in  the  crowd  of  visitors  in  Holyrood  Palace  1 
Her  pocket  had  probably  been  picked  while  she  stood  in  the 
picture-gallery,  dreaming  about  the  portrait  of  King  James. 
How  she  reproached  herself  for  her  carelessness  in  taking  so 
considerable  an  amount  of  money  with  her. 

She  was  excessively  agitated;  but  she  managed  to  control 
herself  sufficiently  to  speak  calmly  to  the  waiter,  and  say : 

"Be  good  enough  to  pay  this  man  and  put  the  item  in  my 
bill." 

The  waiter  obeyed,  and  discharged  the  cab ;  for,  of  course, 
the  name  of  Lady  Vincent  was  as  yet  a  passport  to  credit. 

Then  she  hurried  to  her  room  in  a  state  of  great  agitation 
that  nearly  deprived  her  of  all  power  to  think  or  act.  She 
rang  the  bell,  v'hich  brought  a  waiter  to  her  cresen"*. 


The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux.        139 

"I  would  like  to  see  the  landlord  of  this  hotel,"  she  said. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  lady,  but  the  proprietor  lives  out 
of  town,"  returned  the  man. 

"Then  send  the  clerk  of  the  house,  or  the  head  waiter,  or 
whoever  is  in  charge  here." 

"I  will  send  the  clerk,  my  lady,"  said  the  waiter,  retiring. 

The  clerk  soon  made  his  appearance. 

"Sir,"  said  Claudia,  "I  sent  for  you  to  say,  that  while  I 
was  seeing  Holyrood  Palace,  this  forenoon,  my  pocket  was 
picked  of  my  purse,  which  contained  a  considerable  amount 
of  raoney;  and  I  wish  to  ask  you  what  steps  I  should  take 
for  its  recovery  ?" 

"Have  you  any  idea  of  the  sort  of  person  that  robbed  you, 
my  lady?" 

"Not  the  slightest ;  all  I  know  is,  that  I  had  the  purse  with 
me  when  I  paid  the  guide  on  entering  the  palace,  and  that  I 
missed  it  when  I  reached  home;  and  all  I  suspect  is,  that  it 
was  purloined  from  me  while  I  was  in  the  picture-gallery, 
standing  before  the  portrait  of  James  IV." 

"In  what  form  was  the  money,  my  lady  ?" 

"Five  and  ten  pound  Bank  of  England  notes." 

"Were  the  nimabers  taken?" 

"Oh,  no ;  I  never  thought  of  taking  the  numbers." 

"Then,  my  lady,  I  very  much  fear  that  it  will  be  difficult 
or  impossible  to  recover  the  money!  However,  I  will  send 
for  a  detective,  and  we  will  make  an  effort." 

"Do,  sir,  if  you  please." 

The  clerk  retired. 

In  a  few  moments  Detective  Ogilvie  waited  on  Lady  Vin- 
cent, and  received  her  statement  in  regard  to  the  robbery, 
promised  to  take  prompt  measures  for  the  discovery  of  the 
thief,  and  retired. 

Then  suddenly  Claudia  remembered  her  letter  to  her  fath- 
er. It  was  now  near  the  close  of  the  short  winter  day.  Her 
interview  with  the  detective  had  occupied  her  so  long  that  she 
had  barely  time  to  scribble  and  send  off  the  few  iirgent  lines 
with  which  the  reader  is  already  acquainted. 

Then  she  dined  and  resigned  herself  to  repose  for  the  re- 
mainder of  tne  evening. 

While  she  was  in  her  easy-chair,  luxuriating  in  indolence 
and  solitude  before  tie  glowing  fire,  the  thought  suddenly 
occurred  to  her  that  she  was  not  really  so  badly  off,  as  the 
loss  of  her  purse  had  first  led  her  to  suppose.  She  recollected 
that  she  had  several  costly  rings  upon  her  fingers;  diamonds, 
rubies  and  emeralds — the  least  valuable  of  which  was  worth 
more  than  the  purse  of  money  which  had  been  stolen  from 
her;  and  if  she  should  be  driven  to  extremity,  she  could  part 
with  one  of  these  rings;  but  then,  on  calm  consideration  of 
the  subject,  she  had  really  no  fears  of  being  driven  to  ex- 


140       The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux. 

tremity.  She  was  Lady  Vincent,  and  her  credit  was  as  yet 
intact  before  the  world.  This  was  a  first-class  hotel,  and 
would  supply  her  with  all  that  she  might  require  for  the 
month  that  must  intervene  before  her  father's  arrival. 

She  would  spend  this  interval  in  seeing  Edinboro'  and  its 
environs,  and  when  her  father  should  come,  she  would  per- 
suade him  to  take  her  to  the  continent,  and  afterward  carry 
her  back  to  her  native  country,  and  to  her  childhood's  home, 
to  pass  the  remainder  of  her  life  in  peace  and  quietness. 

Dreaming  over  this  humble  prospect  for  the  future,  Clau- 
dia retired  to  bed,  and  slept  well. 

The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  she  had  breakfasted,  she  or- 
dered a  carriage  from  the  stables  connected  with  the  hotel, 
and  drove  to  Edinboro'  Castle,  where  she  spent  two  or  three 
hours  among  its  royal  halls  and  bowers,  dreaming  over  the 
monuments  of  the  past. 

She  lingered  in  the  little  cell-like  stone  chamber  where 
Queen  Mary  had  given  birth  to  her  son,  afterward  James 
VI.  She  read  the  pathetic  prayer  carved  on  the  stone  tablet 
above  the  bedstead,  and  said  to  have  been  composed  by  the 
unhappy  queen  in  behalf  of  her  new-born  infant. 

In  the  great  hall  of  the  castle  she  paused  long  before  a 
beautiful  portrait  of  Mary  Stuart,  that  was  brought  from 
Paris,  where  it  had  been  painted,  and  which  represented  the 
young  queen  in  her  earliest  womanhood,  when  she  was  the 
Dauphiness  of  France.  And  Claudia  thought  that  this  por- 
trait was  the  only  one,  among  all  that  she  had  ever  seen  of 
Mary  Stuart,  which  came  up  to  her  ideal  of  that  royal  beauty, 
who  was  even  more  a  queen  of  hearts  than  of  kingdoms. 

At  length,  weary  of  sight-seeing,  she  re-entered  her  car- 
riage and  returned  home. 

While  she  was  in  her  bed-chamber,  taking  off  her  bonnet, 
a  card  was  brought  to  her. 

"This  must  be  a  mistake — this  cannot  be  for  me;  I  have  no 
acquaintances  in  the  town,"  she  said,  without  taking  the 
trouble  to  glance  at  the  card.  

"I  beg  your  ladyship's  pardon,  but  the  countess  inquired 
particularly  for  Lady  Vincent,"  replied  the  waiter  who  had 
brought  the  card. 

"The  countess  ?"  repeated  Claudia,  and  she  took  it  up  and 
read  the  lightly-penciled  name : 

"Berenice,  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux^ 

"Say  to  Lady  Hurstmonceux  that  I  will  be  with  her  in  a 
few  minutes,"  said  Claudia. 

*  'Berenice,  Coimtess  of  Hurstmonceux,' "  she  repeated, 
when  the  man  had  retired;  "that  is  the  widow  of  the  late  earl, 
and  the  forsaken  wife  of  Herman  Brudenell !  What  on  earth 
lorings  he  here?    And  bow  dii!  she  know  of  m^  presence  m 


The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux.        141 

this  city,  and  even  in  this  house?    However,  I  shall  know 
soon,  I  suppose." 

And  so  saying,  Claudia  made  a  few  changes  in  her  toilet, 
and  went  into  the  parlor. 

Standing,  looking  from  the  window,  was  a  lady,  dressed 
in  a  black  velvet  bonnet  and  plumes,  a  black  silk  gown,  and 
a  large  sable  cloak  and  muff. 

As  Claudia  entered,  this  lady  turned  around  and  lifted  her 
veil,  revealing  a  beautiful,  pale  face,  with  large,  deep-fringed, 
mournful  dark  eyes,  and  soft,  rippling,  jet-black  hair. 

At  the  first  glance  Claudia  was  touched  by  the  pensive 
beauty  of  that  lovely  face. 

Yes!  at  the  age  of  forty-five  the  Countess  of  Hurstmon- 
ceux was  still  beautiful.  She  had  passed  a  serene  life,  free 
alike  from  carking  cares  and  fashionable  excesses,  and  so  her 
beauty  had  been  well  preserved.  It  would  have  taken  a  keen 
observer  to  have  detected  the  few  wrinkles  that  had  gathered 
in  the  corners  of  her  fine  eyes  and  plump  lips,  or  to  have 
found  out  the  still  fewer  silver  threads  that  lay  hidden  here 
and  there  among  her  dark  tresses. 

Claudia  advanced  to  greet  her,  holding  out  her  hand,  and 
saying : 

"The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux,  I  presume  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other,  with  a  sweet  smile. 

"I  am  Lady  Vincent;  and  very  happy  to  see  you.  Pray,  be 
seated,"  said  Claudia,  drawing  forward  a  chair  for  her  visi- 
tor. 

"My  dear  Lady  Vincent,  I  only  learned  this  morning  of 
your  arrival  in  town,  and  presuming  upon  my  slight  connec- 
tion with  the  family  of  the  present  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux,  I 
have  ventured  to  call  on  you  and  claim  a  sort  of  relationship," 
said  Berenice,  kindly. 

"Your  ladyship  is  very  good,  and  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you,"  said  Claudia,  cordially.  Then  suddenly  recollecting 
her  own  cruel  position,  and  feeling  too  proud  as  well  as  too 
honest  to  appear  under  false  colors,  she  blushed,  and  said : 

"I  cannot  think  how  your  ladyship  could  know  that  I  was 
here ;  but  I  am  sure  that  when  you  did  me  this  honor  of  call- 
ing, you  did  not  know  the  circumstances  under  which  I  left 
Castle  Cragg." 

A  tide  of  crimson  swept  over  the  pale  face  of  Berenice; 
it  arose  for  Claudia,  not  for  herself,  and  she  replied: 

"My  dear,  wronged  lady,  I  know  it  all !" 

"You  know  all?  all  that  they  allege  against  me,  and  you 
call  me  wronged  ?"  exclaimed  Claudia,  in  pleased  surprise. 

"I  know  all  that  they  allege  against  you,  and  I  believe  you 
to  be  wronged!  Therefore,  my  dear,  I  have  come  to-day  to 
offer  you  all  the  services  in  my  power,"  said  Berea'se. 
sweetly. 


142       The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux. 

Claudia  euddenly  caught  her  hand  and  clasped  it  fer- 
vently. 

"And  now,  my  dear  Lady  Vincent,  will  you  permit  me  to 
explain  myself  and  inform  you  how  I  became  acquainted  with 
the  circumstances  of  your  departure  from  Castle  Cragg,  and 
your  arrival  at  this  house?"  inquired  Berenice. 

"Oh,  do!  do!"  replied  Claudia. 

"You  must  know,  then,  that  a  few  of  my  old  domestics, 
who  served  the  late  earl  and  myself  while  we  lived  in  Castle 
Cragg,  still  remain  there  in  the  service  of  the  present  earl's 
family,  which  is  always  represented  at  the  castle  by  Lord 
Vincent.  Among  them  are  two,  who,  it  appears,  became  very 
much  attached  to  your  ladyship.  I  allude  to  the  housekeeper, 
Jean  Murdock,  and  the  major-domo,  Cuthbert  Allan." 

"Yes,  they  were  very  kind;  but,  after  all,  it  was  old  Cuth- 
bert who  sent  that  note  to  Lord  Vincent,  which  brought  him 
from  the  play  at  midnight  to  burst  into  my  room  and  find 
his  wretched  valet  hidden  there,"  replied  Claudia,  gravely. 

"Yes,  Cuthbert  saw  the  valet  steal  into  your  room  and 
sent  word  to  his  master,  as  in  duty  bound.  But,  after  wit- 
nessing the  scene  of  his  discovery,  Cuthbert's  mind  instantly 
cleared  your  ladyship  of  suspicion  and  rushed  to  the  conclus- 
ion that  the  miserable  valet  concealed  himself  in  your  bou- 
doir unknown  to  you  and  for  the  purpose  of  robbery.  I,  for 
my  part,  believe  he  was  placed  there  with  the  connivance  of 
Lord  Vincent,  and  that  old  Cuthbert  was  made  to  play  a 
blind  part  in  that  conspiracy." 

"I  know,  of  course,  that  it  was  a  conspiracy;  but  really 
wondered  to  find  the  honest  old  man  in  it." 

"He  was  a  blind  tool  in  their  hands.  But  I  was  about  to  tell 
you  how  the  facts  of  your  departure  from  the  castle  and  your 
arrival  at  this  hotel  came  to  my  knowledge.  In  brief,  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  old  Cuthbert  this  morning,  in  which  h« 
related  the  whole  history  of  the  afi"air,  as  it  was  known  to 
him.  He  expressed  great  sorrow  for  the  part  he  had  been 
obliged  to  bear  in  the  business,  and  the  most  respectful  sym- 
pathy for  your  ladyship.  He  said  his  'heart  was  sair  for  the 
bonnie  leddy  sae  frae  a'  her  friends  and  living  her  lane  in 
Edinboro'  toun.'  And  he  begged  me  to  find  you  out  and  pro- 
tect you.  To  this  letter  was  added  a  postscript  by  Jean  Mur- 
dock. It  was  a  warm,  humble,  respectful  encomium  upon 
your  ladyship,  in  which  slie  joined  her  prayers  to  those  of 
Cuthbert  that  I  would  seek  you  out  and  succor  you." 

As  Berenice  spoke,  blushes  dyed  the  cheeks  of  Claudia,  and 
tears  dropped  from  her  eyes.  She  was  softened  by  the  kind- 
ness of  those  two  old  people,  and  she  felt  humiliated  by  their 
patronage. 

Something  of  the  nature  of  her  emotions  the  countess  mus^. 
have  divined,  for  she  took  the  hand  of  Claudia  and  said : 


The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux.       143 

'^Believe  me,  dear  Lady  Vincent,  I  did  not  need  urging  to 
come  to  you.  I  needed  only  to  know  that  you  were  in  town 
and  alone.  As  soon  as  I  read  the  letters  I  sent  for  the  morn- 
ing paper  to  look  for  the  arrivals  at  the  various  hotels  to  see 
if  I  could  find  your  name  among  them.  I  could  not,  and  so  I 
was  about  to  lay  aside  the  paper  and  send  for  the  one  of  the 
day  before,  when  my  eye  happened  to  light  on  a  paragraph 
in  which  I  found  your  name.  It  was  the  robbery  of  your 
purse  at  Holyrood  Palace.  There  I  learned  your  address. 
And  I  came  away  here  immediately." 

Claudia's  fingers  tightened  on  the  hand  of  the  countess, 
which  she  still  retained  in  hers. 

"How  much  I  thank  you.  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  you  can 
never  know;  because  you  have  never  felt  what  it  is  to  be  a 
stranger  in  a  foreign  country,  with  your  fame  traduced  and 
not  one  friend  to  stand  by  your  side  and  sustain  you,"  she 
said. 

Again  that  crimson  tide  swept  over  the  pale  face  of  Bere- 
nice ;  but  this  time  it  was  for  herself,  and  she  answered : 

"Oh,  yes,  yes!  I  have  known  just  that!  Ten  years  in  a 
foreign  country,  forsaken,  shunned,  traduced,  without  one 
friend  to  speak  comfort  in  an  almost  breaking  heart.  It  is 
past !  I  have  overlived  it !  The  God  of  my  f  athers_  has  sus- 
tained me!  Let  us  speak  no  more  of  it!"  And  crimson  as 
she  had  been  for  a  moment,  she  was  as  pale  as  marble  now. 

Claudia  laid  her  hand  caressingly  upon  the  shoulder  of 
Berenice  and  looked  in  her  face  with  that  mute  sympathy 
which  is  more  effective  than  the  most  eloquent  words.  Some- 
thing, indeed,  she  had  heard  of  this  before,  but  the  rumor 
had  left  no  impression  on  her  mind-,  though  she  blamed  her- 
self now  for  the  momentary  forgetfulness. 

"Let  us  speak  of  yourself  and  your  plans  for  the  future," 
said  the  countess. 

"My  plans  are  simple  enough.  I  have  written  to  my  father. 
I  shall  remain  here  until  his  arrival,"  said  Claudia. 

There  was  a  pause  between  them  for  a  few  minutes,  dur- 
ing which  the  countess  seemed  in  deep  thought,  and  then 
this  stiU  beautiful  woman  smilingly  said : 

"I  am  old  enough  to  be  your  mother,  Lady  "Vincent,  and 
in  the  absence  of  your  father,  I  hope  you  will  trust  yourself 
to  my  guardianship.  It  is  not  well,  under  present  circmn- 
6tances,  that  you  should  remain  alone  at  a  public  hotel.  Gome 
with  me  and  be  my  guest  at  Cameron  Court.  It  is_  a  pretty 
place,  near  Koslyn  Castle,  and  despite  all  the  evil  in  the 
hearts  of  meri,  I  think  I  can  make  your  visit  there  pleasant 
an4  interest!!^." 

Claudia  burst  into  tears;  the  proud  Claudia  vjsls  softened, 
almost  humbled  by  this  unexpected  kindness. 

"God  bless  you  1"  was  all  she  could  say.    "I  will  gladly  go  I'^ 


X44  l^^c  Rescue. 

"And  I  am  your  mother,  in  the  meantime,  Claudia,  you 
know,"  said  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  touching  the  bell. 

"You  are  my  guardian  angel !"  sobbed  Claudia. 

"Lady  Vincent's  bill,  if  you  please,"  said  the  countess 
to  the  waiter  who  answered  the  bell,  and  who  immediately 
bowed  and  disappeared. 

But  Claudia  grasped  the  arm  of  the  countess  and  ex- 
claimed in  alarm : 

"I  had  forgotten !  I  cannot  leave  the  hotel  yet,  because  I 
cannot  pay  the  bill !  My  lost  purse  contained  all  the  money 
that  I  brought  from  Castle  Cragg." 

"What  of  that  ?  I  am  your  mother,  Claudia,  until  you  hear 
from  your  father;  and  your  banker  until  you  recover  your 
money.  Now,  my  dear,  go  put  on  your  bonnet,  while  1  settle 
•with  the  waiter.  My  carriage  is  at  the  door,  and  we  will  go 
at  once.  I  will  send  my  own  maid  in  a  fly  back  to  pack  up 
your  effects  and  bring  them  after  us." 

"How  much  my  father  will  thank  and  bless  you  I"  said 
Claudia,  as  she  left  the  room  to  prepare  herself. 

Lady  Hurstmonceux  paid  the  bill,  and  left  half  a  sover- 
eign in  the  hands  of  the  chambermaid,  bidding  her  to  take 
care  of  Lady  Vincent's  effects  until  they  should  be  sent  for. 

And  when  Claudia  came  out,  equipped  for  her  ride,  they 
went  below  stairs. 

A  handsome  brougham,  painted  dark  green,  drawn  by  fine 
gray  horses,  with  silver  mountings  on  their  harness,  and  a 
coachman  and  footman  in  gray  and  green  livery,  stood  be- 
fore the  door. 

And  the  countess  and  her  protege  entered  it  and  were  driv- 
en toward  Cameron  Court. 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

THE    RESCUE. 

We  must  now  relate  what  happened  to  Ishmael  and  his 
companions  after  they  were  deserted  by  the  life-boats. 

When  they  were  out  of  sight,  he  dropped  his  eyes  and  bent 
his  head  in  prayer  for  himself  and  his  fellow-sufferers,  and 
thus  awaited  his  fate. 

But,  oh,  heaven!  what  is  this?    Is  it  death,  or — LiFEf 

The  wreck  that  had  been  whirling  rapidly  aromid  at  the 
mercy  of  the  furious  sea,  was  now  lifted  high  upon  the  crest 
of  a  wave  and  cast  further  up  upon  the  reef,  where  she  rested 
in  comparative  safety. 

So  suddenly  and  easily  had  this  been  done  that  it  was  some 
tninutes  before  the  shipwrecked  men  could  understand  that- 
they  were  for  the  present  respited  from  death. 


The  Rescue.  t45 

It  was  Ishmael  who  now  inspired  and  confirmed  their 
hopes. 

"Friends!"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  deep,  earnest,  solemn  voice, 
as  he  looked  around  upon  them,  "let  us  return  thanks  to  the 
Lord,  for  we  are  saved!" 

"Yes!  saved  from  immediate  death  by  drowning,  but  per- 
haps not  saved  from  a  slow  death  of  starvation,"  observed  a 
"doubting  Thomas"  of  their  number. 

"The  Lord  never  mocked  his  servants  with  false  hopes  I 
We  are  saved!"  repeated  Ishmael,  emphatically,  but  with  the 
deepest  reverence. 

For  some  hours  longer  the  wind  raved  and  the  sea  roared 
around  the  wreck;  but  even  the  highest  waves  could  not  now 
wash  over  it. 

As  the  sun  arose  the  mist  cleared  away  and  the  wreck  grad- 
ually dried. 

About  noon  the  sea  began  to  subside.  And  at  sunset  all 
was  calm  and  clear. 

Ishmael  and  his  companions  now  suffered  from  only  two 
causes — hunger  and  cold — the  sharpest  hunger  and  the  most 
intense  cold;  for  every  single  atom  and  article  that  could 
possibly  be  used  for  food  or  covering  had  been  washed  out  of 
the  wreck  and  swept  off  to  sea.  And  all  day  long  they  had 
been  fasting  and  exposed  to  all  the  inclemency  of  that  severe 
season  and  climate.  And  during  the  ensuing  night  they  were 
in  danger  of  death  from  starvation  or  freezing.  But  they 
huddled  closely  together  and  tried  to  keep  life  within  them 
by  their  mutual  animal  heat;  while  Ishmael,  himself  confi- 
dent of  timely  rescue,  kept  up  their  hopes. 

It  was  a  long  and  trying  night.  But  it  ended  at  last.  Day 
dawned;  the  sun  arose. 

Then  Ishmael  saw  some  fragments  of  the  wreck  that  had 
been  tossed  upon  the  rocks  and  left  there  by  the  receding 
waves.  Among  them  was  a  long  spar.  This  he  directed  the 
men  to  drag  up  upon  the  deck.  The  men,  who  were  weak 
from  hunger  and  numb  from  cold,  could  scarcely  find  power 
to  obey  this  order.  But  when  they  did,  Ishmael  took  off  his 
own  shirt  and  fastened  it  to  the  end  of  the  spar,  which  he 
immediately  set  up  in  its  position  as  a  fiag-staff.  They  had 
no  glass,  and  therefore  could  not  sweep  the  horizon  in  search 
of  a  sail.  But  Ishmael  had  an  eagle's  piercing  glance,  and 
his  fine  eyes  traveled  continually  over  the  vast  expanse  of 
waters  in  the  hope  of  approaching  rescue. 

At  last  he  cried  out : 

"A  sail !  a  sail  from  the  eastward,  friends !" 

"Hurrah !  but  are  you  sure,  sir  ?"  broke  from  half  a  dozen 
lips,  as  all  hands,  forgetting  cold  and  hunger,  weakness  and 
stiffness,  sprang  upon  their  feet  and  strained  their  eyeballa 
in  search  of  the  sail,  which  they  could  not  yet  discern. 


146 


Tlie  Rescue. 


"Are  you  quite  certain,  sir?"  some  one  anxioiuly  inquired. 

"Quite !    I  see  her  very  plainly  I" 

"But  if  she  should  not  see  our  signal  1"  groaned  "doubting 
Thomas."  .  ^,     ^ 

"She  sees  it  1  She  is  bearing  rapidly  down  upon  ua !  ex- 
claimed Ishmael. 

"I  see  her  now !"  cried  one  of  the  men. 

"And  so  do  I!"  said  another, 

"And  so  do  I !"  added  a  third. 

"She  is  not  a  sail-boat ;  she  is  a  steamer !"  said  a  fourth,  as 
the  ship  came  rapidly  toward  the  wreck. 

"Sh©  is  the  'Santiago,'  of  Havana,"  said  Ishmael,  as  she 
steamed  on  and  came  within  hailing  distance. 

Then  she  stopped,  blew  off  her  steam,  and  sent  out  a  boat. 
While  it  was  cleaving  the  distance  between  the  ship  and  the 
rocks,  a  man  on  the  deck  of  the  former  shouted  through  his 
trumpet : 

"Wreck  ahoy  !"  .  ,      ,  ,  . 

"Ay,  ay!"  responded  Ishmael,  with  all  the  strength  of  hia 
powerful  lungs. 

"All  safe  with  you?" 

"All  safer 

As  the  boat  was  pushed  up  as  near  as  it  could  with  safety 
be  brought  to  the  wreck,  the  frozen  and  famished  men  began 
to  crawl  down  and  drop  into  it.  When  they  were  all  in,  even 
to  the  professor,  Ishmael  stepped  down  and  took  his  place 
among  them  with  a  smile  of  joy,  and  a  deep  throb  of  gratitude 
tp  God.  For,  ah !  the  strong  young  man  had  loved  that  joy- 
ous and  powerful  life,  which  he  had  been  so  prompt  to  offer 
up  on  the  shrine  of  duty ;  and  he  was  glad  and  thankful  to  re- 
turn to  life,  to  work,  to  love,  to  Bee !  n   ,     • 

The  boatmen  laid  themselves  to  their  oars,  and  pulled  vig- 
orously for  the  steamer.    They  were  soon  alongside. 

The  men  made  a  rush  for  her  decks.  They  wanted  to  be 
warmed  and  fed. 

Ishmael  let  them  all  go  before  him,  and  then  he  followed 
and  stepped  upon  the  steamer. 

And  the  next  moment  he  found  himself  seized  and  clasped 
in  the  embrace  of —Mr.  Brudenell  1 

"Oh,  my  son!  my  brave  and  noble  son!  you  are  saved  I 
God  is  kinder  to  me  than  I  deserve !"  he  cried. 

"One  moment,  Brudenell!  Oh,  Ishmael!  thank  heaven, 
you  are  safe!"  fervently  exclaimed  another  voice — that  of 
Judge  Merlin,  who  now  came  forward  and  warmly  shool*  his 

hand.  ii  x  1         i> 

Captain  Mountz,  Doctor  Kerr,  and  m  fact  all  Islunael  8 

late  fellow-passengers,  now  crowded  around  him  with  earnest 

and  even  tearful  congi-atulations. 
And  meanwhile  dry  clothes  and  warm  food  and  driak  wert 


Tlie  Rescue.  X47 

prepared  for  the  shipwrecked  passengers.  And  it  was  not 
until  Tshmael  had  changed  his  raiment  and  eaten  a  comfort- 
able breakfast,  that  he  was  permitted  to  liear  an  ox])lana- 
tion  of  the  unexpected  appearance  of  his  friends  upon,  the 
deck  of  the  steamer. 

It  happened  that  the  passengers  in  the  life-boats,  after  suf- 
fering severely  with  cold,  and  with  a  dread  of  a  slow  death 
from  exposure,  for  twelve  hours,  were  at  last  picked  up  by 
the  "Santiago,"  a  Spanish  steamer,  bound  for  Havana.  That 
after  their  v\^ants  had  been  relieved  by  the  captain  of  the 
"Santiago,"  they  had  told  him  of  the  imminently  perilous 
condition  in  which  they  had  left  the  remnant  of  the  crew 
and  passengers.  And  the  captain  had  altered  the  course  of 
the  ship  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  yet  rescuing  those  forsaken 
men.    And  the  Lord  had  blessed  his  efforts  with  success. 

Such  was  the  story  told  by  Mr.  Brudenell  and  Judge  Mer- 
lin to  Ishmael. 

"But,  oh!  my  dear  boy!  vhat  a  fatal  day!  Just  think  of 
it!  This  steamer  is  bound  for  Havana!  And  this  veiy  day, 
when  we  ought  to  be  landing  en  the  shores  of  England,  we 
find  ourselves  steaming  in  an  opposite  direction  for  the  West 
Indies !"  said  Judge  Merlin. 

"Oh,  sir!i:rust  still  in  heaven!"  answered  Ishmael.  "Think 
how  marvellously  the  Lord  has  delivered  us  from  danger 
and  death !  This  very  delay  that  seems  so  fatal  may  be  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  our  final  success." 

The  words  of  Ishmael  proved  prophetic. 

For  had  it  not  been  for  their  shipwreck  and  the  conse- 
quent alteration  in  their  course,  their  voyage  to  England 
would  have  been  taken  in  vain. 

The  "Santiago"  steamed  her  way  southward,  and  in  due 
course  of  time,  without  the  least  misadventure,  reached  the 
port  of  Havana. 

It  was  Sunday,  the  first  of  January,  when  they  arrived. 

"We  shall  have  no  trouble  with  the  Custom-House  officers 
here,"  laughed  Ishmael,  as  he  gave  his  arm  to  Judge-  Merlin 
and  went  on  shore,  leaving  all  the  passengers  who  had  not 
been  shipwrecked  and  lost  their  baggage  to  pass  the  ordeal 
he  and  his  friends  had  escaped. 

They  went  at  once  to  the  hotel  which  had  been  recom- 
mended to  them  by  the  captain  of  the  "Santiago." 

And  as  this  was  Sunday,  and  there  was  no  English  Prot- 
estant Church  open,  they  passed  the  day  quietly  within  doors. 

On  Monday  Judge  Merlin's  first  care  was  to  go  to  the 
American  Consul,  and  get  the  latter  to  accompany  him  to  a 
banker,  from  whom  he  procured  the  funds  he  required  in 
exchange  for  drafts  upon  his  own  New  York  bankers. 

While  Judge  Merlin  was  gone  upon  this  errand  Ishmael 
10 


148  The  Rescue. 

went  down  to  the  harbor  to  make  inquiries  as  to  what  ships 
were  to  sail  in  the  course  of  the  week  for  Europe. 

He  found  that  he  had  a  choice  between  two.  The  "Mary," 
an  English  sailing  ship,  would  leave  on  Wednesday  for  Lon- 
don. And  the  "Cadiz,"  a  screw  steamer,  would  sail  on  Sat- 
urday for  the  port  whose  name  she  bore. 

Ishmael  mentally  gave  the  preference  to  the  swift  and  sure 
steamer,  rather  than  the  uncertain  sailing  packet;  but  he 
felt  bound  to  refer  the  matter  to  Judge  Merlin  before  finally 
deciding  upon  it. 

With  this  purpose  he  left  the  harbor  and  entered  the  city. 
He  was  passing  up  one  of  the  narrow  granite-paved  streets 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  grand  cathedral,  where  lie  the 
ashes  of  Columbus,  when  he  was  startled  by  hearing  quick 
and  heavy  footsteps  and  a  panting,  eager  voice  behind  him; 

"Marse  Ishmael!  Marse  Ishmael  Worth!  Oh,  is  it  you, 
sir,  dropped  from  the  clouds  to  save  me !  Marse  Ishmael  I  O}^ 
stop,  sir !     Oh,  for  de  Lord's  sake,  stop  !" 

Ishmael  started  and  turned  around,  and,  to  his  inexpressi- 
ble amazement,  stood  face  to  face  with — old  Katie ! 

"Oh,  Marse  Ishmael,  honey,  is  dis  you?  Is  dis  indeed 
you,  or  only  de  debbil  deceiving  me !"  she  exclaimed,  panting 
for  breath,  as  she  caught  him  by  the  great  coat,  and  grasped 
him  as  the  drowning  grasp  a  saving  plank. 

"Katie!"  exclaimed  Ishmael,  in  immeasurable  astonish- 
ment. 

"Yes,  honey,  it's  Katie!  Yes,  my  chile,  old  Katie  an'  no 
ghose,  nor  likewise  sperit,  dough  you  might  think  I  is !  But, 
oh,  Marse  Islunael!  is  you,  you^  Is  you  reely  an'  truly  you, 
and  no,  no  'ception  ob  de  debbil  ?" 

''Katie  P'  exclaimed  Ishmael,  unable  to  realize  the  fact  of 
her  presence.  "How  on  earth  came  you  here?"  asked  Ish- 
mael, staring  at  her. 

"I  didn't  come  on  earth  at  all!  I  come  by  de  sea!  Oh, 
Marse  Ishmael !  I  done  died  since  I  lef  you !  done  died  and 
gone  to  de  debbil !  been  clar  down  dar  in  his  place,  which  it 
ain't  'spectable  to  name!  done  died  and  gone  dere  and  come 
to  life  again,  on  a  ship  at  sea." 

"Who  brought  you  here,  Katie?"  questioned  Ishmael,  thor- 
oughly perplexed. 

"De  debbil,  honey !  de  debbil,  chile !  Sure  as  you  lib  it  wa3 
de  debbil!  Oh,  Marse  Ishmael,  honey,  stop  long  o'  me! 
Don't  go  leabe  me,  chile !  don't !  Now  de  Lor,  has  sexit  you 
to  mo,  don't  go  leabe  me!  You  is  all  de  hopes  I  has  in  de 
worl' !"  she  cried,  clinging  with  desperate  perseveranci  to  his 
coat. 

"I  will  not  leave  you,  Katie !  I  have  not  the  least  intention 
of  doing  so !  But  all  this  is  quite  incomprcliensible.  Wherq 
i^  £0ur  mistress  ?    She  is  never  here  ?"  said  Ishmael. 


The  Rescue.  149 

"I  dunno !  I  dunno  niiffin  'bout  my  poor  dear  babyphlp  I — 
ladyship,  I  mean ;  only  my  head  is  so  'fused ! — oh !  Lor',  don't 
go  break  away  from  me !  don't,  Marse  Ishmael !" 

"I  will  not  desert  you,  Katie;  be  assured  that  I  will  not; 
but  let  go  my  coat  and  try  to  compose  yourself.  Don't  you 
see  that  you  are  collecting  a  crowd  around  us?"  expostu- 
lated Ishmael.  "Come  with  me  to  the  hotel.  You  will  find 
your  old  master  there." 

They  walked  on  as  rapidly  as  the  strength  of  the  old  wom- 
an would  allow,  for  Ishmael  would  not  permit  her  to  put 
herself  out  of  breath. 

When  they  reached  the  hotel,  Ishmael  told  Katie  to  follow 
him,  and  so  led  her  to  her  master's  apartments. 

They  stopped  outside  the  door. 

"You  must  remain  here  until  I  go  and  see  if  the  judge  has 
returned  from  his  ride  to  the  bank.  And  if  he  has,  I  must 
prepare  him  for  your  arrival  here;  for  your  master  has  aged 
very  much  since  you  saw  him  last,  Katie,  and  the  surprise 
might  hurt  him,"  whispered  Ishmael,  as  he  turned  the  door- 
knob and  went  in. 

The  judge  had  just  returned.  He  was  seated  at  the  table, 
counting  out  money. 

"Ha,  Ishmael,  my  boy,  have  you  got  back?"  he  asked, 
looking  up  from  his  work. 

"Yes,  sir ;  and  I  have  the  choice  of  two  packets  to  offer  you. 
The  brig  'Mary'  sails  for  London  on  Wednesday;  the  steam- 
er 'Cadiz'  sails  for  the  port  of  Cadiz  on  Saturday.  The 
choice  remains  with  you,"  said  Ishmael,  putting  down  his 
hat  and  seating  himself. 

"Oh!  then  we  will  go  by  the  'Cadiz;'  though  she  sails  at 
a  later  day,  and  for  a  farther  port,  we  shall  reach  our  des- 
tination sooner,  going  by  her,  than  we  should  to  go  in  a 
sailing  packet  bound  direct  for  London." 

"I  think  so  too,  sir;  there  is  no  certainty  in  the  sailing 
packets.    I  hope  you  succeeded  at  the  bank  ?" 

"Perfectly;  our  Consul,  Mr.  Tourneysee,  went  with  me, 
to  identify  me  and  vouch  for  my  solvency,  and  I  got  ac- 
commodated without  any  further  difficulty  whatever.  And 
now  I  must  insist  upon  being  banker  for  our  whole  party 
until  we  reach  England." 

"I  thank  you,  sir,  in  behalf  of  my  father,  as  well  as  my- 
self," said  Ishmael. 

"Now,  let  me  see —  nine  hundred  and  seventy,  eighty, 
ninety,  an  hundred — that  is  one  thousand.  I  will  lay  that 
by  itself,"  muttered  the  judge,  still  counting  his  money. 

"I  met  an  old  acquaintance  down  in  the  city,"  said  Ish- 
mael, gradually  feeling  his  way  toward  the  announcement 
of  his  news. 

Then,  after  a  few  preliminary  remarks,  he  announced  that 


150  A  Father's  Vengeance. 

he  had  met  old  Katie,  aud  that  she  was  outside  the  door, 
waiting  for  an  audience. 

This  information  was  astounding  to  the  judge;  but  after 
a  few  moments  he  recovered  his  equanamity  sufficiently  to 
say: 

"Let  her  come  in,  Ishmael." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A   father's  vengeance. 

Ishmael  went  to  the  door  and  admitted  Katie. 

The  old  woman  made  an  impulsive  rush  toward  her  master, 
but  stopped  and  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears  so  violent  that 
she  was  scarcely  able  to  stand. 

"Sit  down,  Katie.  Sit  down  and  compose  yourself.  Your 
master  will  not  take  it  amiss  that  you  sit  in  his  presence," 
said  Ishmael,  pushing  a  low,  soft  chair  toward  the  woman. 

"Certainly  not;  let  her  rest;  sit  down,  Katie!  how  do  you 
do?"  said  the  judge,  going  toward  his  old  servant  and  holding 
out  his  hands. 

"Oh,  marster!  Oh,  marster!"  sobbed  Katie,  sinking  into 
the  seat  and  clinging  to  her  master's  venerable  hands,  upon 
which  the  tears  fell  like  rain. 

"Where  did  you  leave  your  lady  ?"  inquired  the  judge,  af- 
ter the  old  woman  had  become  somewhat  composed.  He  had 
been  almost  dying  of  anxiety  to  ask  this  question,  but  had 
refrained  on  account  of  Katie's  excessive  agitation.  "Where 
did  you  leave  your  mistress  ?" 

"Le'me  see !  Where  did  I  leave  her  ag'in  ?  Oh !  I  'mem- 
bers exactly  now!  'Deed,  I  got  good  reason  to  'member 
dat  night,  if  I  never  'members  anoder  day  nor  night  of  my 
life!" 

"Tell  us,  Katie,"  said  Ishmael. 

"Well,  den,  I  done  lef  her  on  de  grand  staircase  o'  de 
castle  agoin'  down  to  dinner.  And  she  looking  beautiful  in 
her  rosy  more  antics,  just  like  a  lamb  dressed  for  the  sac- 
rifice, 'eordin'  to  de  scriptur' !  And  she  unsuspicionin'  any- 
thing, and  me  dyin'  to  tell  her,  on'y  she  wouldn't  stop  to 
listen  to  me." 

"To  tell  her  what,  Katie?" 

"Why,  laws,  honey,  'bout  de  debblish  plot  as  my  lordship 
and  dat  whited  saltpetre  and  de  shamwalley  plotted  ag'in 
her — ag'in  her,  my  own  dear  babyship ! — ladyship,  I  meant 
to  say." 

"There  was  a  plot,  then,"  inquired  Ishmael,  with  forced 
calmness,  for  he  wished  quietly  to  draw  out  the  woman's 
story  without  agitating  and  confusing  her.  "There  w?"  a 
V^ot,  then?" 


A  I^atHer's  Vengeance.  151 

"Oh,  wasn't  dere?  De  blackest  plot  ag'in  my  luuysliip  as 
ebber  de  old  debbil  hisse'f  could  o'  put  in  anybody's  head. 
And  I  heard  it  all !    And  I  heard  it  all  good,  too." 

Katie  then  told  the  story  of  her  experience  in  Castle 
Cragg,  and  how  she  learned  of  the  plot  to  degrade  her  mis- 
tress; she  also  pictured  her  discovery  by  the  schemers,  who 
half  choked  her,  and  then  rendered  her  unconscious  by  the 
fumes  of  chloroform.  Then  she  told  of  her  awakening,  when 
she  found  herself  in  an  underground  dungeon. 

"How  long  did  you  remain  in  that  dungeon,  Katie  ?"  asked 
Ishmael. 

"  'Deed,  Marse  Ishmael,  chile,  I  dunno !  'cause,  you  see,  I 
hadn't  no  ways  o'  keepin'  'count  o'  de  time;  for,  you  see, 
noon  day  was  jus'  as  dark  as  midnight  in  dat  den!  So  how 
I  gwine  tell  when  day  broke,  or  when  night  come  ag'in?  or 
how  many  days  broke,  or  how  many  nights  come  ?" 

"Then  you  have  really  no  idea  of  how  long  you  remained 
there?" 

"Not  a  bit !  'Cause,  you  see,  Marse  Ishmael,  'pears  to  me, 
judging  by  my  feelin's,  I  must  a  stayed  dere  about  seben 
years!  But  den  I  don't  s'pose  I  stayed  dat  long  neider, 
'cause  I  laiow  I  nebber  had  nothin'  to  eat  nor  drink  all  de 
time  I  was  dere;  which  you  know  I  couldn't  a'  fasted  seben 
years,  down  dere,  could  I?" 

"Not  with  safety  to  life  and  health,  Katie,"  smiled  Ish- 
mael. 

"Well,  den,  if  it  wasn't  seben  years,  it  was  as  long  as  eber 
anybody  could  lib  dere  a  fastin'." 

"How  did  you  get  out  at  last,  Katie?" 

"Well,  now,  Marse  Ishmael,  begging  your  pardon,  dat  was 
the  curiosest  t'ing  of  all!  I  dunno  no  more  how  I  come 
out'n  dat  dark  den,  nor  de  man  in  de  moon!  I  tin'k  it  was 
witchcraft  and  debbilment!  dat's  what  I  tin'k,"  whispered 
Katie,  rolling  her  eyes  mysteriously. 

"Tell  us  what  you  know,  however,"  said  Ishmael. 

"Well,  all  I  know  it  jus'  dis;  I  had  to  keep  my  eyes  open 
day  and  night  to  dribe  de  rats  away!  And  tired  and  sleepy 
as  I  was,  I  dar'n't  go  to  sleep,  for  fear  dey  would  'vour  mo 
alibe!  Last,  hows'eber,  I  was  so  dead  tired,  and  so  dead 
sleepy,  dat  I  couldn't  keep  awake  no  longer,  and  so  I  fell  fas' 
asleep,  and  now,  Marse  Ishmael,  listen,  'cause  I  gwine  tell 
you  somethin'  wery  'stonishin'!  Sure  as  I'm  a  libbin' 
'oman,  standin'  here  afore  your  eyes,  when  I  drapped  asleep 
I  was  in  dat  dark  den,  unner  de  groun',  and  when  I  waked 
up  I  was  in  a  ship  sailin'  on  de  big  sea!  Dere!  you  may 
beliebe  me  or  not,  as  you  choose,  but  dat's  de  trufe !" 

Judge  Merlin  and  Ishmael  exchanged  glances,  and  then 
the  latter  said : 

"The  case  is  a  perfectly  clear  one  to  me,  sir!    While  tiit4 


152  A  Father's  Vengeance. 

slept  she  was  made  to  inhale  chloroform,  and  while  under 
its  influence  she  was  conveyed  from  her  prison  to  the  ship, 
very  likely  a  smuggler;  and  was  brought  to  this  island  and 
Bold  here  for  a  slave !" 

"Dere!  dere!  If  Marse  Ishmael  Wort  ain't  hit  de  nail 
right  on  de  head!  To  be  sure  it  mus'  a  been  chloe-fawn! 
Sure  'nough,  dey  did  fetch  me  to  dis  island  and  dey  did  sell 
me  for  a  slabc!"  said  old  Katie. 

"But  hadn't  you  a  tongue  iu  your  head?  Couldn't  you 
have  told  the  people  here  that  you  were  free?"  demanded 
Judge  Merlin,  impatiently. 

"An'  sure,  didn't  I  do  it?  Didn't  I  pallaber  till  my  t'roat 
was  sore  ?  And  didn't  poor  Jim  and  Sally  pallaber  till  deir 
t'roats  was  sore?  And  didn't  all  t'ree  of  us  pallaber  to- 
geder  till  we  'mos'  wore  out  our  tongues?  Didn't  do  no 
good,  dough!  'Cause  you  see,  de  people  here  is  sich  bar- 
bariums  dey  cannot  unnerstan'  one  word  o'  good  Christian 
talk!" 

"And  if  they  understood  you,  Katie,  as  some  of  them 
probably  did,  it  would  not  have  served  you;  your  unsupport- 
ed words  would  never  have  been  taken.  As  you  are  aware, 
my  dear  judge,  if  you  will  take  time  to  reflect,"  added  Ish- 
mael, turning  to  Judge  Merlin. 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  replied  the  latter. 

"But,  Katie,  you  mentioned  Sally  and  Jim.  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  they  also  were  kidnapped  ?"  inquired  Ishmael. 

"You  better  beliebe  it,  honey!  'Cause  it's  true  as  gospel, 
chile!  Now  I  gwine  to  tell  you  all  about  it!  One  o'  de 
fust  t'ings  I  t'ought  when  I  woke  up  and  stared  around  to 
find  myself  aboard  dat  vessel  on  de  water,  was  dat  I  had  died 
in  dat  cell  and  dat  de  angels  was  a  takin'  my  soul  across  de 
Riber  ob  Jordan  to  de  City  ob  de  New  Jerusalem,  'cord in'  to 
de  Scriptur'.  On'y  you  see,  chile,  I  wasn't  dat  downright 
sure  and  sartain  as  I  myse'f  was  a  saint  prepared  for  heb- 
ben;  nor  likewise  did  de  man  as  sat  smoking  and  drinking 
at  de  table  look  like  the  chief  ob  de  angels." 

"In  what  part  of  the  ship  were  you  when  you  recovered 
your  consciousness?"  inquired  Ishmael,  who  wished  to  have 
a  clear  idea  of  the  "situation." 

"In  de  captain's  cabin,  Marse  Ishmael.  And  dat  was  de 
cap'n,  dough  I  didn't  know  tvho  he  was,  nor  where  1  was 
at  de  time.    So  I  up  and  ax  him: 

"  'Please,  marster,  if  you  please,  sir,  to  tell  me  is  I  to  go 
to  hebben  or  t'other  place?' 

"  *0h,  you've  come  to;  have  you  V  says  he,  and  he  takes  a 
pipe  from  de  table  and  he  whistles. 

"And  den  a  bad-lookin'  man  comes  down.  And  saye  da 
paptain  to  him: 


A  Patter's  Vengeance.  153 

"  'Jack !  bundle  dis  'oman  out'n  here  and  pu£  Eer  into  the 
steerage.' 

"And  de  ill-lookin'  man  he  says  to  me: 

"  'Come  along,  blacky !' 

"And  so  I  up  and  followed  him  to  de  deck,  'cause  why  not  ? 
What  was  de  use  o'  resistin'?  'Sides  which,  I  t'ought  by 
going  farder  1  might  fine  out  more.  And  sure  'nough,  so  I 
did ;  for  soon  as  ebber  I  got  on  deck,  de  fuss  person  I  see  was 
Jem.  Which  soon  as  ebber  I  see  him  and  he  see  me,  he 
run,  de  poor  boy,  and  cotch  me  'round  de  neck,  and  hugged 
and  kissed  me,  and  said  says  he : 

"  'Oh,  my  manmay,  is  dis  you  V 

"And  says  I: 

"  'Yes,  Jem,  it's  me !  I  died  down  dere,  in  a  wault,  in  de 
bottom  o'  de  castle.    When  did  you  die,  Jem?' 

"  'Am  I  dead,  mammy  ?'  says  he. 

"  'Why,  to  be  sure  you  are,'  says  I,  'else  how  you  come 
here  ?' 

"  'And  dat's  true  enough,'  says  he.  'On'y  I  didn't  know 
I  was  dead  till  you  told  me,  mammy.  Well,  if  I'm  dead,  I 
s'pose  I  must  a  died  sudden.  'Cause  I  know  I  was  well  and 
hearty  enough;  on'y  dat  I  was  troubled  'bout  you,  mammy; 
and  I  went  to  sleep  in  my  bed,  and  when  I  wa^T^ed  up  I  was 
here.' 

"Well,  while  Jem  was  talkin',  I  heerd  de  man.  Jack,  say : 

"  'Go  along  den,  you  cuss !  dere's  your  f  rien's.' 

"And  I  looked  up  and  dere  he  was  a  pushing  Sally  along 
towards  us! 

"  'And,  oh,  Sally,'  says  I,  'are  you  dead,  too  ?' 

"'No,  Aunt  Katie,  I  ain't  dead;  hut  I'm  stole!  And  I 
s'pects  you  all  is,  too !'    And  den  she  boo-hoo-ed  right  out. 

"  'Sally,"  says  I,  'you  is  dead!' 

"'No,  I  ain't,  aunt  Katie,  I's  stole!'  she  said,  crying  as 
if  her  heart  would  break. 

"  'Sally,'  says  I,  'you's  dead!  Now  don't  deny  it  'Cause 
what  would  be  de  use  ?  For  if  you  ain't  dead,  how  come  you 
here  V 

"  'I  know  how  I  come  here  well  enough !  I  was  stole  out'n 
my  bed  and  brought  here.  And  my  lordship  help  de  t'ieves 
to  steal  me !    I  saw  him !" 

"  'Mammy,'  says  Jem,  'I  reckon  Sally's  in  de  right  ob  it. 
And  'deed,  I  hopes  she  is;  'cause  you  see  if  she  ain't  dead, 
why,  no  more  are  we;  and  if  she  was  stole,  why,  it's  like  as 
we  was,  too !'  And  den  turnin'  round  to  Sally,  he  says,  says 
he: 

'"Sally,  tell  us  what  happened  to  you?' 

•'So  Sally  she  told  us  how  she  hadn't  been  able  to  sleep 
de  night  afore;  and  how  toward  mornin'  she  t'ought  she 
would  get  up  and  dress  herse'f.    And  'Jus  as  she  was  a  put- 


t54  A  Father's  Vengeance. 

tin'  on  her  shoes,  all  ob  a  sudden  de  door  opens  and  in  walks 
my  lordship,  follyed  by  two  men!  which  was  she  so  'ston- 
ished  she  could  do  nothing  but  stare,  'till  my  lordship  sprung 
at  her  t'roat  and  put  somefing  to  her  nose,  as  made  her  faint 
away!    Which  ob  course  it  mus'  a  been  chloe-fawn." 

"Of  course,"  said  Ishmael ;  "but  go  on  with  your  state- 
ment." 

"Well,  and  Sally  tole  me  how  when  she  come  to  herc-elf  she 
was  on  dis  wessel.  Eut  she  says  she  wasn't  'ceived  one  bit. 
She  'niembered  eberyting.  And  she  could  swear  to  de  men 
as  stole  lier,  which  dey  was  my  lordship — and  a  perty  lord- 
ship he  is ! — and  de  captain  o'  de  wessel  and  de  fust  mate." 
"Sally  will  be  a  most  invaluable  witness  against  those 
felons.  Judge  Merlin,  if  she  can  be  found  and  taken  to 
England,"  whispered  Ishmael. 

The  old  man  nodded  assent.    And  Katie  continued: 

"Well,  childun,  afore  I  heerd  Sally's  'scription  o'  how  aey 
Barved  her,  I  could  a  sword  as  we  was  all  dead,  and  on  our 
woyage  cross  de  riber  of  Jordan.  But  arter  dat  I  was  open 
to  conwiction;  which  you  know,  Marse  Ishmael,  I  was  allers 
ob  a  lib'ral,  'lightened  turn  o'  mind !  And  so  I  gib  in  as  we 
was  all  alibe." 

"Well,  and  what  then,  Katie?  How  did  you  reconcile 
yourself  to  your  lot?" 

"Well,  Marse  Ishmael,  you  know  how  it  is  wid  us  poor 
cullered  folks,  as  can't  eben  call  our  children  our  own! 
Well,  seeing  as  we  was  in  de  hand  o'  de  spoiler,  we  laid 
low  and  said  nothin'.  What  would  a  been  de  use  of  makin' 
a  fuss  dere  ?  We  couldn't  get  out'n  de  wessel  if  dey'd  let  us, 
'less  we  had  gone  inter  de  water.  So  we  'signed  ourselves 
to  carcumstances  and  did  de  bes'  we  could  till  we  arribed 
out  here  to  dese  Wes'  Stingy  Islands  and  was  put  up  for 
sale.  Den  we  spoke;  but  we  might  jus'  as  well  a  held  our 
tongues!  for,  as  I  tolled  you  afore,  dese  barbariums  don't 
unncrstan'  one  blessed  word  o'  good  Christian  talk!  And 
so,  Marse  Ishmael,  'spite  o'  all  we  could  say,  poor  Jim  was 
knocked  down  to  a  sinner-done  as  libs  in  de  country,  which 
sinner-done  took  him  off  dere.  And  Sally  she  was  sole 
to  a  sinner-doner  as  libs  near  de  Captain-General's  palace. 
Dese  barbariums  calls  all  de  ladies  and  gemmen  sinner- 
dones  an'  sinner-doners.  And  I  was  gib  away  to  a  "fernal 
low  shop-keeper  near  de  quays," 

"iSTow,  Judge  Merlin,"  said  Ishmael,  "that  we  have  heard 
her  story,  we  must  take  very  prompt  measures." 

"What  would  you  do,  Ishmael  ?" 

For  all  answer,  Ishmael  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  a  car- 
riage to  be  brought  to  the  door  immediately.  That  done,  he 
turned  to  the  judge  and  said: 

"We  must  take  Katie  with  v%  ask  Mr.  Brudenell  to  ac 


On  the  Viscount's  Track.  155 

company  us,  and  drive  first  to  the  office  of  our  consul.  We 
Ehall  require  his  official  assistance  in  the  recovery  of  these 
servants.  We  must  be  quick^,  for  we  must  get  all  this  busi- 
ness settled  in  time  for  the  sailing  of  the  'Vigo,'  in  which 
we  must  return  to  England,  taking  these  negroes  with  us. 
We  must  at  any  cost!  even  if  we  have  to  purchase  them 
back  at  double  the  money  for  which  they  were  sold.  For 
you  see  that  their  testimony  is  all  we  require  to  overthrow 
Lord  Vincent  and  vindicate  his  wife." 

"Oh,  the  infernal  villain!  Do  you  think,  Ishmael,  that 
I  shall  be  contented  with  simply  overthrowing  him  in  the 
divorce  court?  No!  By  all  that  is  most  sacred,  I  will  kill 
him!"  thundered  the  judge. 

"We  will  not  have  any  divorce  trial,"  said  Ishmael  firmly. 
"We  will  not  have  your  daughter's  pure  name  dragged 
through  the  mire  of  a  divorce  court ;  we  will  have  Lord 
Vincent  and  his  accomplice  arrested  and  tried;  the  valet 
for  murder,  and  the  viscount  and  the  opera-singer  for  con- 
spiracy and  kidnapping.  We  have  proof  enough  to  convict 
them  all;  the  valet  will  be  hanged;  and  the  viscount  and 
the  opera-singer  sentenced  to  penal  selrvitude  for  many 
years.  Will  not  that  be  sufficient  punishment  for  the  con- 
spirators. And  is  it  not  better  that  the  law  should  deal  out 
retributive  justice  to  them,  than  that  you  should  execute  un- 
lawful vengeance  ?"  inquired  the  young  man. 

"But  my  daughter!     My  daughter!" 

"Your  daughter  shall  be  restored  to  you; — her  dower  re- 
covered; her  name  preserved;  and  her  honor  perfectly,  tri- 
imiphantly  vindicated." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ON  THE  viscount's  TRACK. 

While  Ishmael  and  Judge  Merlin  still  conversed  the  car- 
riage was  announced. 

A  message  was  despatched  to  Mr.  Brudenell;  but  the  mes- 
senger returned  with  the  news  that  the  gentleman  had  gone 
out. 

Therefore  Ishmael  and  the  judge,  taking  Katie  with  them, 
entered  the  carriage  and  gave  the  order  to  be  driven  to  the 
American  Consul's  office. 

The  way  was  long,  the  carriage  slow  and  the  judge  boil- 
ing over  with  rage  and  impatience.  But  at  last  the  car- 
riage stopped  at  the  door  of  the  American  Consulate. 

Leaving  Katie  in  the  carriage,  they  alighted  and  entered. 

The  consul  was  engaged,  so  that  they  were  detained  in 
the  ante-room  nearly  half  an  hour;  at  the  end  of  which  four 


IS6 


On  the  Viscount's  Track. 


oi  five  gentlemen  were  seen  to  issue  from  the  inner  room, 
and  then  the  doorkeeper,  with  a  bow,  invited  Judge  Mer- 
lin and  his  party  to  pass  in. 

Philip  Tourneysee,  the  American  Consul  for  Havana  at 
that  time,  was  the  eldest  son  of  General  Tourneysee,  a 
friend  of  Judge  Merlin  and  a  resident  of  Washington.  He 
had  sought  his  present  appointment  because  a  residtnce  in 
the  West  Indies  had  been  recommended  for  his  health. 

He  was  a  slight,  elegant,  refined-looking  man,  with  a  clear 
complexion,  bright  auburn  hair,  and  dark  hazel  eyes.  The 
fine  expression  of  his  countenance  alone  redeemed  it  from 
effeminacy. 

On  seeing  Judge  Merlin  enter  with  his  party,  he  arose 
smilingly  to  receive  them. 

"You  are  surprised  to  see  me  here  again  so  soon,  Philip," 
said  the  judge,  as  he  seated  himself  in  the  chair  placed 
for  him  by  the  consul. 

"I  cannot  see  you  too  often,  judge,"  was  the  courteous 
answer. 

"Hem !  This  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Worth,  of  the  Washington 
bar.  Mr.  Worth,  Mr.  Tourneysee,  our  consul  for  the  port 
of  Havana,"  said  the  judge,  with  all  his  old-fashioned  for- 
mality. 

The  gentlemen  thus  introduced  bowed,  and  the  consul 
offered  a  chair  to  his  second  visitor  and  then  seated  himself 
and  looked  attentive. 

"We  have  come  about  the  most  awkward  business  that  ever 
was  taken  in  hand!"  said  the  judge;  "the  strangest  and  most 
infamous,  also,  that  ever  came  before  a  criminal  tribunal! 
— but  let  that  pass.  What  would  you  say,  for  instance,  to 
the  fact  of  an  English  nobleman  turning  slave-trader?  and 
not  only  slave-trader,  but  slave-stealer  ?" 

The  consul  looked  perplexed  and  incredulous. 

"I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,"  said  the  judge,  who  imme- 
diately commenced  and  related  to  the  astonished  consul  the 
history  of  the  abduction  and  sale  of  the  three  negroes  by 
Lord  Vincent,  and  their  subsequent  transportation  to  Cuba 
and  second  sale  at  Havana  by  the  smugglers. 

"You  will,  of  course,  cause  instant  search  to  be  made 
for  the  guilty  parties,  and  I  will  certainly  give  you  every 
assistance  in  my  power,  both  in  my  public  capacity  and  as 
your  private  friend.  We  will  go  to  work  at  once,"  said  the 
consul,  warmly,  placing  his  hand  upon  the  bell. 

''No,"  said  the  judge,  arresting  his  motion.  "I  have  con- 
Bulted  with  my  friend  and  counsel,  Mr.  Worth,  and  we  have 
decided  that  the  smugglers,  who  are,  after  all,  but  the  sub- 
ordinates in  this  guilty  confederacy,  must  go  unpursued  and 
unpunished  for  the  present," 


On  tHe  Viscount's  Track.  I57 

"How?"  inquired  the  consul,  turning  to  Ishmael,  as  if  ha 
doubted  his  own  ears. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Ishmael,  calmly,  "circumstances  into  which 
it  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  now  enter,  render  it  ab- 
solutely necessary  that  we  should  be  in  England  as  soon 
as  possible.  It  is  equally  necessary  that  we  should  take  the 
negroes  with  us,  not  only  as  witnesses  against  their  first 
abductor  as  to  the  fact  of  the  abduction,  but  also  as  to 
other  transactions  of  which  they  were  cognizant  previous 
to  that  event.  We  must  therefore  avoid  lawsuits  which 
would  be  likely  to  detain  us  here.  We  cannot  delay  our 
departure  either  to  prosecute  the  smugglers  for  kidnapping, 
or  to  sue  the  purchasers  for  the  recovery  of  the  negroes.  We 
must  leave  the  smugglers  to  the  retribution  of  Providence, 
and  we  must  pay  the  purchasers  for  the  negroes  we  wish  to 
carry  away  with  us.  What,  therefore,  we  would  ask  of  your 
kindness  is  this — that  you  will  go  with  us  to  the  purchasers 
of  these  negroes  and  identify  us,  so  as  to  smooth  the  way 
for  a  negotiation  of  our  diificulties." 

"Certainly,  certainly.  Let  me  see.  I  have  an  appoint- 
ment here  at  two  o'clock,  but  at  three  I  will  join  you  at  any 
place  you  inay  name." 

"Would  our  hotel  be  a  convenient  rendezvoiis  for  you?" 

"Perfectly." 

"Then  we  will  not  detain  you  longer,"  said  Ishmael,  ris- 
ing. 

The  judge  followed  his  example. 

And  both  gentlemen  shook  hands  with  the  consul  and 
departed. 

"I  think,"  said  Ishmael,  as  they  took  their  seats  in  the 
carriage,  "that  we  should  take  Katie  immediately  back  to 
her  owner.  I  understand  from  her  that  he  is  a  man  in  the 
humbler  walks  of  life,  and  therefore  I  think  that  he  might 
be  willing  to  close  with  us  for  a  liberal  advance  upon  the 
price  he  paid  the  smuggler." 

"Do  so,  if  you  please,  Ishmael;  I  trust  entirely  to  your 
discretion,"  answered  the  judge. 

"Katie,"  said  Ishmael  to  the  old  woman,  who  had  never 
left  the  carriage,  "can  you  direct  us  the  way  to  find  the  man 
who  bought  you?" 

"Not  to  save  my  precious  life,  couldn't  I,  honey !  Because, 
you  see,  I  nebber  can  t'ink  o'  de  barbareous  names  dey  has 
to  do  streets  in  dis  outlan'ish  place !  But  I  knows  where  I 
is  well  'nough.  An'  I  knows  where  it  is — de  shop,  I  mean! 
And  so  if  you'll  put  me  up  alongside  ob  de  driver  I  can  point 
him  which  way  to  go  an'  where  to  stop,"  said  Katie. 

This  proposition  was  agreed  to.  The  carriage  was  stopped 
*\nd  Katie  was  let  out  and  enthroned  upon  the  seat  beside 


158 


On  the  Viscount's  Track. 


the  coachman,  a  Spaniard,  whom  she  proceeded  to  direct 
more  by  signs  and  gestures  than  by  words. 

After  a  very  circuitous  route  through  the  city  they  turned 
into  a  narrow  street  and  stopped  before  a  house  partly  con- 
fectionery and  partly  tobacco  shop. 

They  alighted  and  went  in,  and  found  the  proprietor  doing 
duty  behind  his  counter. 

The  study  of  the  Spanish  language  had  been  one  of  the 
few  recreations  Ishmael  had  allowed  himself  in  his  self- 
denying  youth.  He  had  afterward  improved  his  oppor- 
tunities by  speaking  the  language  with  such  Spaniards  as 
he  met  in  society  in  Washington.  He  therefore  now  ad- 
dressed the  tobacconist  in  that  tongue,  and  proceeded  to  ex- 
plain the  business  that  brought  himseK  and  his  friend  to 
the  shop. 

The  tobacconist,  who  was  the  ordinary,  small,  lean,  yellow 
specimen  of  the  middle  class  of  Cubans,  courteously  invited 
the  "senors"  into  the  back  parlor,  where  they  all  seated 
themselves  and  entered  more  fully  into  the  subject,  Ish- 
mael acting  as  interpreter  between  the  judge  and  the  to- 
bacconist, whose  name  they  discovered  to  be  Marinello. 

Marinello  expressed  himself  very  much  shocked  to  find 
that  his  purchase  of  the  woman  was  illegal,  if  cot  posi- 
tively felonious;  and  that  an  appeal  to  the  law  would  prob- 
ably deprive  him  of  his  bargain,  and  possibly  criminate 
him  as  the  accomplice  of  the  slave-stealer. 

He  said  that  he  had  given  eight  hundred  dollars  for  the 
woman  Katie,  who  had  been  extolled  by  the  trader  as  a  most 
extraordinary  cook.  And  a  *'most  extraordinary"  one,  he 
declared,  he  found  her  to  be,  for  she  did  not  appear  to  know 
beef  from  mutton  or  rice  from  coffee.  And,  in  fact,  she 
was  good  for  nothing;  for  even  if  he  sent  her  on  an  errand, 
as  on  this  occasion,  she  would  stay  forever  and  one  day  after, 
and  charge  her  sloth  upon  her  infirmities.  She  had  been  a 
bitter  bargain  to  him. 

Judge  Merlin  smiled ;  he  knew  Katie  to  be  one  of  the  best 
cooks  in  this  world  and  to  be  in  the  enjoyment  of  jicrfect 
health,  and  so  he  supposed  that  the  cunning  old  woman  had 
taken  a  lesson  from  the  sailor's  monkey,  who  could  talk,  but 
wouldn't,  for  fear  he  should  be  made  to  work!  And  that 
she  had  feigned  her  ignorance  and  ill  health  to  escape  hard 
labor  for  one  whom  she  knew  could  have  no  just  claim  to 
her  services. 

Ishmael,  speaking  for  Judge  Merlin,  now  explained  to 
the  tobacconist  that  this  woman  Katie  had  been  a  great  fa- 
vorite with  the  mistress  from  whom  she  was  stolen;  that 
they  were  on  their  way  to  see  that  lady;  that  they  wished  to 
take  the  woman  with  them ;  that  they  would  rather  repurchase 
her  than  lose  time  by  suing  to  recover  her;  and  finally,  tha*" 


On  the  Viscount's  Track.  159 

they  were  willing  to  give  him  back  the  money  that  iie  had 
paid  for  Katie,  provided  he  would  deliver  her  up  to  them  at 
once. 

Marinello  immediately  came  to  terms  and  agreed  to  all 
they  proposed. 

He  accompanied  them  back  to  the  hotel,  where  he  received 
eight  hundred  dollars  and  left  Katie. 

"That  is  a  'feat  accomplished,'"  said  Ishmael,  gayly,  as 
he  returned  to  Judge  Merlin's  room,  after  seeing  Marinello 
out;  "and  now  we  may  expect  Mr.  Tourneysee  every  mo- 
ment." 

And,  in  fact,  while  he  spoke  the  door  was  opened  and 
Mr.  Tourneysee  was  announced. 

"I  am  up  to  time,"  he  said,  smiling,  as  he  entered. 
"With  dramatic  punctuality,"  said  Ishmael,  pointing  to 
the  clock  on  the  mantel-piece,   which  was  just  upon  the 
stroke  of  three. 

"Yes,"  said  the  consul,  smiling. 

"We  have  done  a  good  stroke  of  business  since  we  left 
you.  We  have  bought  Katie  back  from  her  new  master  at 
the  same  price  he  gave  for  her,  and  he  was  very  glad  to 
get  out  of  the  affair  so  happily,"  said  Ishmael. 

"Ah  I  that  was  prompt  indeed.  I  wish  you  equal  good 
speed  with  the  other  purchasers  of  stolen  slaves.  By  the 
way,  where  do  we  go  first  ?" 

"I  think  we  had  best  call  on  the  lady  who  bought  the 
girl  Sally;  from  her — Sally,  I  mean — we  might  learn  the 
name  and  residence  of  the  gentleman  who  bought  Jem,  and 
of  which  we  are  at  present  in  ignorance." 
"Who  is  the  lady,  and  where  does  she  live?" 
"We  do  not  know  her  name  either;  Katie  could  not  tell 
us;  but  she  lives  in  the  city,  and  Katie  can  direct  the  coach- 
man where  to  drive.     And  now,  as  the  carriage  is  at  the 
door,  I  think  we  had  better  start  at  once." 
"I  think  so,  too,"   said  the  judge. 

And  accordingly  the  whole  party  went  down-stairs  and  re- 
entered the  carriage,  with  the  exception  of  Katie,  who  again 
mounted  the  box  beside  the  driver  for  the  purpose  of  direct- 
ing him. 

Katie,  who  could  not,  if  it  were  to  save  her  life,  remem- 
ber the  name  of  any  place  or  person  in  that  "barbareous" 
land,  as  she  called  it,  yet  possessed  the  canine  memory  of 
localities;  so  she  directed  the  coachman  through  the  short- 
est cut  of  the  city  toward  the  beautiful  suburb  Guadaloupe, 
and  then  to  an  elegant  mansion  of  white  granite,  standing 
within  its  own  luxuriant  grounds. 

On  seeing  the  carriage  draw  up  and  stop  before  the  gate 
of  this  aristocratic  residence,  the  young  consul  suddenly 
changed  color  and  said: 


l6(.  On  the  Viscount's  Track, 

"This  is  the  palace  of  the  Seiiora  Donna  Eleanora  Pache- 
co,  Countess  de  la  Santa  Cruz." 

"You  know  this  lady  ?"  inquired  the  judge. 

Mr.  Tourneysee  bowed. 

The  porter  threw  open  the  great  gate,  and  the  carriage 
rolled  along  a  lovely  shaded  avenue,  up  before  the  white 
marble  fagade  of  the  palace,  where  it  stopped. 

"If  you  please,  I  will  send  your  cards  in  with  my  own.  As 
I  am  known  to  the  senorita,  it  may  insure  you  a  speedier 
audience." 

"We  thank  you  very  much,"  said  Ishmael,  placing  his 
own  and  the  judge's  cards  in  the  hands  of  the  consid,  who 
alighted,  went  up  the  marble  steps  to  the  front  door,  and 
rang. 

A  footman  opened  the  door,  took  in  the  cards,  and  after 
a  few  moments  returned. 

"The  countess  will  see  the  seiiors,"  was  the  message  that 
the  consul  smilingly  brought  back  to  his  friends  in  the  car- 
riage. 

Then  all  alighted  and  went  into  the  house. 

The  same  footman,  a  jet  black  young  negro,  in  gorgeou3 
livery  of  purple  and  gold,  led  them  into  a  small,  elegantly- 
furnished  reception-room,  where,  seated  on  a  sofa,  and  toying 
with  a  fan,  was  one  of  the  loveliest  little  dark-eyed  Creoles 
that  ever  was  seen. 

She  did  not  rise,  but  extended  her  hand  with  a  graceful 
gesture  and  gracious  smile  to  welcome  her  visitors. 

Tourneysee  advanced,  with  a  deep  and  reverential  bow, 
that  would  have  done  honor  to  the  gravest  and  most  court- 
eous hidalgo  of  that  grave  and  courteous  people. 

"Senora,"  he  said,  with  great  formality,  "I  have  the  honor 
to  present  to  your  ladyship  Chief  Justice  Merlin,  of  the 
United  States  Supreme  Court.  Judge  Merlin,  the  Countess 
de  la  Santa  Cruz." 

The  judge  made  a  profound  bow,  which  the  lady  acknowl- 
edged by  a  gracious  bend  of  the  head. 

With  the  same  serious  and  stately  formality,  which  was 
certainly  not  natural  to  the  young  Marylander,  but  which 
was  assumed  in  deference  to  the  grave  character  of  Spanish 
etiquette,  Mr,   Tourneysee  next   presented — 

":Mr.  Worth,  of  the  Washington  bar." 

The  low  obeisance  of  this  visitor  was  received  with  even  a 
more  gracious  smile  than  had  been  vouchsafed  to  that  of 
the  judge. 

When  they  were  seated,  in  accordance  with  the  lady's 
invitation,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  ordinary  topics 
of  the  day ;  the  weather ;  the  opera ;  the  last  drawing-room  at 
the  Government  Palace;  the  new  Captain-General  and  his 
beautiful  brido;  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 


On  tlie  Viscount^s  Track.  i6i 

The  judge  fidgeted;  Ishmael  was  impatient;  the  consul 
perplexed.  It  was  necessary  to  speak  of  the  affair  that 
brought  them  there !  Yet  how  was  it  possible  without  offence 
to  introduce  any  topic  of  business  in  that  bower  of  beauty,  to 
that  indolent  Venus,  whose  only  occupation  was  to  toy  with 
her  fan;  whose  only  conversation  was  of  sunshine,  flowers, 
music,  balls  and  brides? 

Clearly,  neither  the  judge  nor  the  consul  had  the  cour- 
age to  obtrude  any  serious  subject  upon  her. 

The  disagreeable  task  was  at  length  assumed  by  Ishmael, 
who  never  permitted  himself  to  shrink  from  a  duty  merely 
because  it  was  an  unpleasant  one. 

Taking  advantage,  therefore,  of  a  pause  in  the  conver- 
sation, he  turned  to  the  lady,  and,  speaking  with  grave 
courtesy,  said: 

"Will  the  senora  pardon  me  for  beseeching  her  attention 
to  an  affair  of  great  moment  which  has  brought  us  to  her 
presence  ?" 

The  "senora"  lifted  her  long,  curled  lashes  until  they 
touched  her  brows;  and  opened  wide  her  large,  soft,  dark 
eyes  in  childish  wonder.  "An  affair  of  great  moment!" 
What  could  it  be  ?  A  masque  ball  ?  a  parlor  concert  ?  private 
theatricals?  a — what?  She  could  not  imagine!  Dropping 
her  eyelids  demurely,  she  answered,  softly : 

"Proceed,  senor." 

Ishmael  then  briefly  explained  to  her  the  business  upon 
which  they  had  come. 

The  senora  was  as  sensible  as  she  was  beautiful,  and  as 
benevolent  as  she  was  sensible.  She  listened  to  the  story  of 
the  negroes'  abduction  with  as  much  sympathy  as  curiosity, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  narrative  she  exclaimed: 

"What  villains  there  are  in  this  world!" 

Ishmael  then  delicately  referred  to  their "  wish  to  pur- 
chase the  girl  Sally. 

The  senora  promptly  assented  to  the  ffnplied  desire. 

"It  was  my  steward,  Miguel  Manello,  who  bought  her  for 
me.  I  did  not  particularly  want  her.  And  I  find  her  of  very 
little  use  to  me.  She  cannot  understand  one  word  that  is 
said  to  her.  And  she  does  nothing  from  morning  until  night 
but  weep,  weep,  weep  tears  enough  to  float  away  the  house." 

"Poor  girl,"  murm^^red  Ishmael. 

"So  if  the  senor  wishes  to  recover  her  he  can  take  her 
;aOw,  or  at  any  time." 

Ishmael  delicately  hinted  at  the  purchase  money. 

"Oh,  I  know  nothing  about  such  matters.  I  will  send 
my  steward  to  wait  on  the  senor  at  his  hotel  this  evening 
The  senor  can  then  arrange  the  matter  with  him." 

Ishmael  expressed  his  thanks,  arose  and  bowed  as  if  to 
take  leave. 


i62  Still  on  tlie  Track. 

But  the  lady  waved  her  hand,  and  said  in  a  sweet,  but 

peremptory  manner: 

"Be  seated,  senor." 

With  anotlier  inclination  of  the  head,  Ishmael  resuroed  his 
seat. 

The  lady  rang  a  silver  bell  that  stood  on  a  stand  at  hei* 
right  hand  and  brought  to  her  presence  the  gorgeous,  sable 
footman. 

"Serve  the  senors  with  refreshments,"  was  the  order  given, 
and  promptly  obeyed. 

An  elegant  little  repast  was  set  before  them,  consisting  of 
delicious  coffee,  chocolate,  fresh  fruits,  cakes  and  sweet- 
meats. And  only  when  they  had  done  full  justice  to  these 
delicacies  would  their  hostess  permit  them  to  retire. 

Again  Ishmael  bowed  with  profound  deference,  expressed 
his  thanks  on  the  part  of  himself  and  his  friends,  and  finally 
took  leave. 

On  going  from  the  room  they  noticed  a  person,  who,  from 
the  extreme  quietness  of  her  manner,  had  escaped  their  ob- 
servation until  this  moment.  She  was  a  woman  of  about 
sixty  years  of  age,  clad  in  the  habit  of  a  lay-sister  of  the 
Benedictine  Order,  and  seated  within  a  curtained  recess, 
and  engaged  in  reading  her  "office."  She  was  probably  doing 
duty  as  duenna  to  the  beautiful  widow. 


CHAPTEK  XXV. 

STILL    ON    THE    TRACK. 

Our  party  drove  back  to  the  hotel  to  await  the  coming  of 
the  steward  with  Sally.    Mr.  Brudenell  had  not  yet  returned. 

Ishmael  sent  for  the  clerk  of  the  house  and  bespoke  proper 
accommodations  for  the  servants. 

But  Katie  rebelled,  and  protested  that  she  would  not  leave 
her  old  master  until  bed-time,  when  she  should  insist  upon 
his  locking  her  in  her  bed-room  and  taking  charge  oi  the 
key,  for  fear  she  should  be  bewitched  and  stolen  again. 

At  about  six  o'clock  Miguel  Manello  arrived,  having  Sally 
in  charge. 

According  to  the  instructions  left  witli  the  waiters  they 
were  immediately  shown  up  to  the  apartments  of  Judge 
Merlin. 

Miguel  Manello,  a  little,  dried-up,  mahogany-colored  old 
man  with  bhie-gray  hair,  came  in,  bowing  profoundly. 

Sally  followed  him,  but  suddenly  stopped,  opened  her 
mouth  and  eyes  as  wide  as  they  could  be  extended,  and  stood 
dumb  with  astonishment. 


Still  on  the  Track.  163 

As  she  could  not  speak  a  word  of  Spanish,  nor  the  stew- 
ard of  English,  she  could  not  be  made  to  understand  where 
he  was  bringing  her.  So  she  had  not  the  remotest  suspicion 
that  she  was  approaching  her  master  until  she  actually  stood 
in  his  presence.  Astonishment  makes  most  people  break 
into  exclamations;  but  Sally  it  always  struck  speechless  I 
So  it  had  been  with  her  when  the  viscount  and  his  accom- 
plices entered  her  room  that  night  of  the  abduction.  So  it 
was  with  her  now  that  she  was  brought  unexpectedly  to  the 
presence  of  the  beloved  old  master  whom  she  had  never 
hoped  to  see  again  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 

How  long  she  might  have  remained  standing  there  dumb- 
founded, had  she  not  been  interrupted,  is  not  known;  for 
old  Katie  made  a  dash  forward,  caught  her  in  aa  embrace, 
kissed  her,  burst  into  tears,  and  said: 

"Oh,  Sally,  it  is  all  come  right  1  Ole  marster  done  come 
here  and  he  gwine  buy  us  all  back  and  take  us  to  my  lady- 
ship, and  we  gwine  be  witness  ag'in  my  lordship  and  de 
sham-vally; — which  I  hopes  dey'll  be  hung,  and  likewise  de 
white  saltpetre  as  is  de  wuss  ob  de  free !" 

The  tears  began  to  steal  down  poor  Sally's  cheeks  aiid  she 
looked  appealingly  from  old  Katie  to  Judge  Merlin  and  Ish- 
mael,  as  if  to  entreat  confirmation  of  the  good  news. 

"It  is  all  <tuite  true,  Sally!  You  are  to  return  to  Eng- 
land with  us,  and  then,  I  hope,  we  shall  all  come  back 
to  old  Maryland,  never  to  leave  it  again,"  said  Ishmael. 

"Oh,  Marse  Ishmael,  dat  would  be  like  coming  out'n  pur- 
gatory into  heaben!  Thank  de  Lord!"  fervently  exclaimed 
the  girl,  while  tears — tears  of  joy  now  streamed  down  her 
cheeks. 

"There,  now,  Sally;  go  with  your  aunty  into  the  next 
room,  and  have  a  glorious  old  talk,  while  we  settle  some 
business  with  the  steward,"  said  Ishmael,  pointing  to  the 
door  of  the  ante-room. 

When  they  had  retired  he  beckoned  the  steward  to  ap- 
proach. 

Miguel  "Manefto  advanced  with  a  series  of  genuflexions, 
and  laid  upon  the  table  a  document  which  proved  to  be  a 
bill  of  sale  for  the  girl,  Sally. 

"The  seuor  will  perceive,"  he  said,  "that  I  paid  the  trader 
twelve  hundred  dollars  for  the  negress.  My  mistress,  the 
Senora  Donna  Eleanora  Pacheco,  has  instructed  me  to  de- 
liver the  girl  up  to  the  senor  at  his  own  price.  Bat  the 
senor  will  not,  perhaps,  object  to  paying  the  same  sum  I  paid 
^or  the  girl." 

"Certainly  not,"  answered  Ishmael. 

Judge  Merlin  produced  the  money,  and  the  sal©  was  im- 
mediately effected. 
11 


164  vStill  on  tlie  Track. 

The  steward  took  up  his  hat  to  depart,  hut  Ishlaaal  madfl 
a  sign  for  him  to  stop. 

"You  were  present  at  the  sale  of  this  girl?" 

"Assuredly,  senor;  since  I  purchased  her." 

"There  was  an  old  woman  sold  at  the  same  time?" 

"Yes,  senor;  the  one  that  I  found  in  here." 

"Exactly.    There  was  also  a  young  man?" 

"Yes,  senor." 

"Can  you  tell  me  who  became  his  purchaser?" 

"Certainly,  senor.  He  was  bought  by  the  S©nor  Don 
Filipo  Martinez,  who  lives  in  the  Suburb  Regla." 

"Can  you  give  me  directions  how  to  find  the  place?" 
•   "Certainly,  senor.    I  will  write  it  down,  if  the  seiior  will 
permit  me  the  use  of  his  writing  case." 

Ishmael  placed  a  chair  at  the  table,  and  signed  for  the 
steward  to  take  it. 

Miguel  Manello  sat  down,  wrote  out  the  directions,  handed 
them  to  Ishmael,  and  then  with  a  deep  bow  took  his  leave. 

When  they  were  alone  Ishmael  said: 

"The  Suburb  Regla  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  harbor. 
We  cannot  with  propriety  visit  it  this  evening.  In  the 
morning  we  will  set  out  early.  We  must  either  make  a 
long  circuit  by  land,  or  else  take  the  shorter  cut  across 
the  harbor.     I  think  the  last  mentioned  the  best  plan." 

"I  agree  with  you,"  said  the  judge;  "but  I  fear  we  are 
greatly  trespassing  on  the  time  and  the  official  duties  of  our 
friend,"  he  added,  turning  with  a  smile  to  the  consul. 

"Oh,  not  at  all!  I  am  sufficiently  attentive  to  my  busi- 
ness to  afford  to  take  a  day  now  and  then,  when  necessity 
demands  it,"  replied  Mr.  Tourneysee,  pleasantly,  as  he  arose 
and  bid  his  friends  good-evening.     , 

He  had  scarcely  left  the  scene  when  the  door  opened, 
and  the  truant,  Herman  Brudenell,  entered. 

"You  are  a  pretty  fellow  to  back  your  friends!  Here  we 
have  been  overwhelmed  with  business  and  beset  with  ad- 
ventures, and  you  gone!"  exclaimed  the  judge,  whose  spirits 
were  much  elated  with  the  successes  of  the  day.  "Give  an 
account  of  yourself,  sir!"  he  added. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Brudenell,  throwing  himself  into  a  chair 
and  setting  his  hat  upon  the  table  yith  a  wearied  but 
cheerful  air,  "I  have  been  walking  around  the  city  to  see  all 
that  was  interesting  in  it.  I  visited  the  cathedral,  where 
the  ashes  of  Columbus  repose;  saw  the  Government  Palace; 
the  Admiralty;  the  Eoyal  Tobacco  l-'actory;  several  inter- 
esting old  churches,  and  so  forth!  Last  of  all,  I  ran  up 
against  a  very  dear  friend  of  mine,  whose  acquaintance^  I 
made  at  the  court  of  Queen  Isabelle  when  I  was  at  Madrid, 
some  years  ago.  And  Don  Filipo  insisted  on  my  returning, 
liome  with  lira  to  the  Suburb  Regla,  where  he  has  a  beautiful 


Still  on  tHe  Track.  165 

House  standing  In  the  midst  of  equally  beautiful  grounds. 
Well,  I  dined  there;  and  I  got  away  as  soon  after  dinner  as 
I  decently  could." 

"  'Don  Filipo  ?  Siiburb  Regla  V  "  repeated  Judge  Merlin, 
as  his  thoughts  ran  upon  the  purchaser  of  the  negro  boy 
Jem. 

"Yes !    Do  you  know  him  ?  Senor  Don  Filipo  Martinez " 

"No,  not  personally;  we  have  heard  of  him,  though.  Sit 
still,  Brudenell !  I  have  got  something  to  tell  you !  We  have 
met  some  old  acquaintances  also  since  you  left  us !"  said  the 
judge. 

"Ah!  who  are  they?     The  Tourneysees,  I  presume!*' 

"We  have  met  the  Tourneysees,  of  course;  but  we  have 
met  others." 

"Then  you  will  have  to  tell  me,  judge,  for  I  should  never 
be  able  to  guess  among  your  thousands  of  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances who  were  the  individuals  encountered  here." 

"What  would  you  say  to  me  if  I  should  tell  you  thaiJ 
Ishmael  met  our  old  Katie  in  the  street  and  brought  her 
hither?" 

-  "I  should  say  that  yoii  or  I  were  mad  or  dreaming,"  said 
Mr.  Brudenell,  staring  at  the  judge. 

"And  yet  I  tell  you  the  sober  truth!  That  infamous 
villain,  Malcolm,  Lord  Vincent,  taking  advantage  of  the 
opportunities  afforded  by  his  residence  on  a  remote  part  of 
the  sea-coast,  and  his  connection  with  a  crew  of  smugglers, 
actually  succeeded  in  kidnapping  Lady  Vincent's  three  ser- 
vants and  selling  them  to  the  trader,  who  brought  them  to 
this  island  and  sold  them  again!" 

"Am  I  awake?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brudenell,  in  amazement. 

"As  much  as  any  of  us,  I  suppose !  There  are  times  when 
I  fancy  myself  in  a  strange  dream!" 

"What  could  have  been  the  man's  motive  for  such  a  crime  V 

"Partly,  no  doubt,  cupidity;  for  he  is  as  mean  as  marsh 
mud!  partly  revenge;  for  he  hates  these  negroes  for  their  de- 
votion to  their  mistress !  but  mostly  caution ;  for  one  of  these 
negroes  became  possessed  of  a  secret  compromising  the  repu- 
tation, and  even  the  personal  liberty  of  the  viscoiint." 

"Good  heavens!  I  never  heard  of  such  a  transaction  in 
all  my  life !    Do  give  me  the  particulars  of  this  affair  !'^ 

"By-and-by!  Just  now  I  must  tell  you  that,  with  the  aid 
of  our  consul,  who  has  just  left  us,  we  have  ferreted  out  the 
purchasers  of  the  negroes,  and  we  have  just  repurchased  two 
of  them — old  Katie  and  Sally;  who  are  at  this  present  mo- 
ment in  the  next  room  enjoying  their  reunion." 

"But — ^why  the  deuce  did  you  re-purchase  these  negroes^ 
when  by  appealing  to  the  law,  and  proving  their  felonious 
abduction  and  illegal  sale,  you  might  have  recovered  posses-f 
sion  of  them  without  paying  ?  dollar  f 


i66  Still  on  the  Track. 

"Tes,  I  might;  but  then  again  I  mightn't,  as  lb©  cblldren 
Bay!  In  the  first  impetuosity  of  my  anger,  at  discovering 
these  crimes,  I  would  have  instantly  sued  for  the  recovery 
of  the  negroes,  and  sought  out  and  prosecuted  the  traders, 
had  it  not  been  for  Ishraael!  God  bless  that  young  man  I 
how  much  I  owe  him !  He  interposed  his  warning  voice  and 
wise  counsels.  He  indicated  several  questionable  features 
in  the  case,  that  would  make  the  issue  of  any  lawsuit  that 
I  might  bring  for  the  recovery  of  the  negroes  very  uncertain. 
He  reminded  me,  that  if  involved  myself  in  any  lawsuit, 
either  civil  or  criminal,  it  would  detain  me  on  the  island 
for  weeks  or  months,  while  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance 
that  I  should  be  at  the  side  of  my  injured  child.  I  could  but 
acknowledge  the  truth  and  justice  of  his  argument,  and 
therefore  I  have,  at  some  sacrifice  of  money  and  temper,  re- 
purchased the  negroes." 

"And  looking  at  the  affair  from  Ishmael's  point  of  view,  I 
think  you  have  done  quite  right,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Brudenell. 

"And  there  is  another  consideration,"  put  in  Ishmael. 
"Judge  Merlin  mentioned  to  you,  as  one  of  the  motives  that 
instigated  Vincent  to  the  perpetration  of  the  crime,  the  fear 
of  the  negroes,  v.'ho  had  become  possessed  of  a  secret  involv- 
ing the  liberty  of  the  viscount.  This  secret  was  neither  more 
nor  less  than  the  knowledge  of  a  conspiracy  formed  by  the 
viscount  and  two  of  his  accomplices  against  the  honor  of 
Lady  Vincent.  Thus,  you  see,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that 
these  negroes  should  be  taken  to  England  without  delay  aa 
witnesses " 

"In  the  divorce  trial!  certainly!" 

"No;  not  in  the  divorce  trial;  though  their  testimony  in 
such  a  trial  would  be  conclusive  for  the  lady.  But  we  wish 
if  possible,  to  prevent  the  divorce  trial.  We  will  not  have 
the  daughter  of  Randolph  Merlin  assailed  in  such  unseemly 
manner!  ISTo  woman,  however  innocent  she  may  be,  comes 
out  unscarred  from  such  a  struggle;  for  the  simple  reason 
that  the  bare  fact  of  such  a  suit  having  been  brought  against 
her,  attaches  a  life-long  reproach  to  her." 

"There  is  truth  in  what  you  say,  Ishmael,  but  I  do  not  see 
how  the  trial  is  to  be  avoided,  since  Lord  Vincent  is  de- 
termined to  sue  for  a  dissolution  of  his  marriage." 

"In  this  way,  sir!  By  placing  Lord  Vincent  hors-de-com- 
hat  at  the  very  onset.  When  we  reach  Edinboro'  ovj  first 
visit  will  be  to  a  magistrate's  office,  where  we  will  lodge  in- 
foi'mation  and  cause  warrants  to  be  issued  for  the  arrest  of 
Lord  Vincent  and  his  accomplices  upon  the  charge  of  con- 
spiracy and  kidnapping.  Do  you  suppose  that  Lord  Vincent, 
lodged  in  gaol  and  awaiting  his  trial  for  abduction  and  con- 
spiracy, will  be  in  a  condition  to  prosecute  his  suit,  for  di- 
vorce V 


Still  on  tlie  Track  .167 

"Certainly  not.  I  see  that  you  are  right,  Ishmael.  But 
poor  Claudia  1    In  any  case,  how  she  must  suffer !" 

"Heaven  comfort  her!  Yes!  But  we  chose  the  lesser  of 
two  evils  for  her!  Delivered  from  the  fiend  who  has  tor- 
mented her  for  so  long  a  time,  and  restored  to  her  native 
country  and  to  the  bosom  of  her  family,  we  will  hope  that 
Lady  Vincent's  youth  will  enable  her  to  rally  from  the  de- 
pressing influence  of  these  early  troubles,  and  that  she  will 
yet  regain  her  peace  and  cheerfulness." 

"Heaven  grant  it !  Heaven  grant  it !"  said  the  judge,  fer- 
vently. "Oh,  Ishmael,"  he  continued,  "when  I  think  that 
I  shall  have  my  child  back  again,  I  almost  feel  reconciled  to 
the  storm  of  sorrow  that  must  drive  her  for  shelter  into  my 
firms.  Is  that  selfish?  I  do  not  know  I  Bvit  I  do  know 
that  I  shall  love  her  more,  indulge  her  more  than  I  ever  did 
before  1    She  must,  she  shall  be  satisfied  and  happy  with  me  !"^ 

Ishmael  pressed  his  hand  in  silent  sympathy,  and  then  to 
divert  his  thoughts  from  a  subject  fraught  with  so  much 
emotion,  he  said: 

"It  occurs  to  me,  judge,  to  say  that  Mr.  Brudenell  will 
probably  be  able  very  much  to  facilitate  our  negotiations 
with  his  friend,  Don  Filipo." 

"Yes!  I  should  think  he  would,"  replied  the  judge,  with 
difficulty  tearing  his  thoughts  from  the  image  of  his  daugh- 
ter restored  to  his  home,  sitting  by  his  fireside,  or  at  the 
head  of  the  table — "yes,  I  should  think  Brudenell  would  be 
able  to  smooth  our  way  in  that  quarter." 

"What  is  that,  Ishmael?  What  are  you  both  talking  of  in 
connection  with  myself  and  friend?"  demanded  Mr.  Brude- 
nell, 

"Why,  sir,  your  friend,  Senor  Don  Filipo  Martinez,  is  just 
precisely  the  same  gentleman  who  became  the  purchaser 
of  the  boy  Jem.  We  intend  to  pay  him  a  visit  to-morrow, 
for  the  purpose  of  trying  to  re-purchase  the  boy.  It  is  rather 
a  delicate  matter  to  propose  to  a  Spanish  hidalgo ;  and  there- 
fore we  feel  very  much  pleased  to  find  that  he  is  a  friend  of 
yours,  and  we  hope  that  your  introduction  will  recommend 
us  to  a  favorable  hearing." 

"Certainly,  I  will  go  with  you  and  introduce  you.  But  I 
do  not  think  your  cause  needs  my  advocacy;  and  I  am 
very  much  mistaken  in  my  estimation  of  Don  Filipo's  char- 
acter, if  when  he  has  heard  all  the  facts  he  does  not  at 
once  deliver  the  negro  boy  into  youx  hands  and  decline  to 
accept  any  payment." 

^    "But  to  that  I  would  never  consent,"  said  the  judt^e. 
•.   "I  do  not  see  how  you  can  help  it,  if  you  cannot  get  your 
witness  on  any  other  terms.    Don  Filipo  is  a  Spanish  noble- 
man! he  has  high  ideas  of  honor!     The  manner  in  which 
he  will  look  upon  this  affair  wiU  be  probably  this — ^he  will 


i68  Still  on  the  Track. 

Bee  that  lie  has  been  deceived  into  the  purchase  of  stolen 
property,  and  into  a  sort  of  unconscious  complicity  with 
the  thieves.  He  will  drop  the  property  'like  a  hot  potato,'  as 
the  Irish  say.  In  other  words,  he  would  consider  his  honor 
ineffaceably  stained  by  either  keeping  the  boy  on  the  one 
hand  or  receiving  any  payment  on  the  other!  Don  Filipo 
would  lose  ten  tir-es  the  amount  of  the  purchase  money 
rather  than  su.Ter  the  shadow  of  a  shade  of  reproach  to  rest 
for  one  instant  on  his  'scutcheon." 

"I  think  if  it  is  as  Mr.  Brudenell  says,  judge,  that  you 
had  better  not  make  any  difficulty  about  this  'point  of  honor' 
with  the  Seiior  Don  Filipo.  Get  the' negro  back  on  his  own 
terms.  Afterward,  when  you  reach  England,  you  can  easily 
and  delicately  remunerate  him  by  sending  him  a  complimen- 
tary present  of  equal  or  greater  value  than  the  purchase 
money  he  refuses,  supposing  that  he  does  refuse  it,"  said 
Ishmael. 

"He  will  refuse  it,"  persisted  Mr.  Brudenell. 

"That  will  do,  Ishmael!  You  have  shown  me  a  way  out 
of  this  difficulty !  And  now  suppose  we  ring  for  supper  ?  We 
have  had  nothing  since  breakfast  except  the  light  repast  set 
before  us  by  the  Senora  Donna — et  cetera!" 

Ishmael  touched  the  bell,  which  brought  up  a  waiter. 

Judge  Merlin  ordered  supper  to  be  served  immediately. 

When  it  was  ready  he  called  in  Katie  and  Sally  to  wait 
on  the  table — to  remind  him  of  old  times,  he  said. 

After  supper  he  sent  for  the  housekeeper  and  gave  his  two 
female  servants  into  her  charge,  requesting  her  to  se-e  that 
their  wants  were  supplied. 

And  Katie,  now  that  she  had  Sally  with  her,  went  away 
willingly  enough  without  insisting  on  being  locked  in  her 
bed-chamber  for  safe-keeping. 

And  soon  after  this  our  wearied  party  separated  and  re- 
tired to  rest. 

The  next  morning,  directly  after  an  early  breakfast,  they 
set  oflF  for  the  Suburb  Regla;  calling  on  their  way  at  the 
office  of  the  consul,  to  discharge  that  gentleman  from  the 
duty  of  accompanying  them;  a  measure  now  rendered  un- 
necessary by  the  presence  of  Mr.  Brudenell,  and  the  fact 
of  the  latter  being  an  intimate  friend  of  Don  Filipo,  and 
therefore  quite  competent  to  indorse  these  strangers. 

Mr.  Tourneysee  was  excessively  busy,  and  was  very  glad  to 
be  released  from  his  promise  to  attend  his  friends.  He  gave 
them,  however,  his  best  wishes  for  their  success;  bid  them 
adieu,  and  suffered  them  to  depart. 

.  It  was  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  when  they 
reached  the  residence  of  Don  Filipo.  It  was  an  imposing 
edifice^  built  of  white  granite^  and  standing  within  its  owa 


Still  on  the  Track.  169 

Bpacioug  gi'onnds.  A  tiroa^  arenus,  J)av'e3  With  granite,  and 
shaded  with  tropical  trees,  led  up  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

Arrived  here,  Mr.  Brudenell  alighted  from  his  carriage, 
.rang  the  door-bell,  and  sent  in  the  cards  of  his  party  with 
his  own. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  admitted  by  a  mulatto  foot- 
man, in  rich  though  plain  livery,  who  conducted  them  to 
a  handsome  library,  where  Don  Filipo  stood  ready  to  re- 
ceive them. 

The  Senor  Don  Filipo  Martinez,  Marquis  de  la  Santa 
Espirito,  was  not  a  Creole.  That  any  spectator  might  know 
at  a  glance.  He  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  Spanish  hidalgo, 
of  the  glorious  old  Castilian  order.  He  had  been  born  and 
brought  up  near  the  Court  of  Madrid;  he  had  graced  an 
enviable  position  about  the  person  of  his  sovereign;  and 
lately,  he  had  been  sent  out  to  fill  a  responsible  office  in 
the  government  of  the  island.  He  was  even  now  talked  of 
as  the  next  Captain-General. 

He  was  a  -^erj  distinguished-looking  man,  somewhat  past 
middle  age,  with  a  tall,  finely  proportioned  though  very  spar© 
form;  a  long,  thin  face,  Roman  nose,  piercing  black  eyes, 
heavy  black  eyebrows,  olive  complexion,  and  iron-gray  hair 
and  beard. 

He  advanced  with  grave  and  stately  courtesy  to  welcome 
his  visitors,  whom  Mr.  Brudenell  presented  in  due  order. 

When  they  were  all  seated,  Mr.  Brudenell  undertook  at 
once  to  introduce  the  subject  of  the  business  upon  which 
they  had  come. 

Don  Filipo  gave  the  speaker  his  most  serious  attention,  and 
heard  the  narrative  with  surprise  and  mortification  some- 
what modified  by  his  habitual  and  dignified  self-restraint. 

At  its  conclusion,  he  turned  to  Judge  Merlin,  and  said : 

"I  am  deeply  grieved,  senor,  in  having  done  you,  however 
unconsciously,  so  great  a  wrong.  I  must  pray  you  to  accept 
my  apologies,  and  the  only  atonement  I  can  make  you — ^tho 
restitution  of  your  slave." 

"Sir,  I  am  pained  that  you  should  accuse  yourself  so  un-» 
justly;  I  cannot  feel  that  you  have  done  me  any  wrong,  or 
owe  me  any  apology,  or  restitution.  I  shall  be  vei-y  glad 
to  get  the  boy  back;  and  I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  will- 
ingness to  give  him  up.  But  I  am  quite  willing  and  ready 
to  refund  to  you  the  purchase  money  paid  for  him,"  said 
Judge  Merlin. 

"Senor,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  receive  it,"  answered 
Don  Filipo,  gravely. 

"But,  sir,  I  cannot  think  of  permitting  you  to  be  the 
loser  by  this  transaction !  I  really  must  insiat  upon  you  ac- 
cepting the  purchase  money." 


lyo  Still  on  tHe  Track. 

"Senor,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  do  so,"  very  gravely  re- 
plied Don  Filipo. 

*'But,  my  dear  sir,  pray  reflect  1  -You  have  actually  dis- 
bursed a  large  sum  of  money  in  the  purchase  of  this  boy. 
I  do  but  offer  you  your  own!    I  pray  you  accept  it." 

"It  is  impossible,  senor,"  very,  very  gravely  replied  the 
Spaniard. 

And  at  that  moment  Judge  Merlin  caught  the  eye  of 
Ishmael  fixed  upon  him  with  an  anxious  gaze.  This  gaze 
caused  Judge  Merlin  to  glance  up  at  the  face  of  his  inter- 
locutor. 

The  countenance  of  Don  Filipo  had  assumed  a  severe  and 
haughty  aspect,  although  his  words  and  tones  were  still  court- 
eous and  gentle,  as  he  repeated: 

"It   is   impossible,   senor." 

And  then  Judge  Merlin  seemed  to  understand  that  to  con- 
tinue to  press  money  upon  this  proud  old  Castilian  noble- 
man would  be  simply  to  insult  him. 

With  a  deep  bow,  he  said : 

"I  yield  the  point  to  you,  Senor  Don  Filipo !  And  must  re- 
main your  debtor  for  this  great  favor." 

The  stern  face  of  the  old  Castilian  melted  into  a  fascinat- 
ing smile,  as  he  offered  his  hand  to  the  judge,  and  said 
courteously :  -• 

"I  esteem  myself  happy  in  being  able  to  restore  to  the 
senor  his  slave.  The  boy  is  absent  now  exercising  my  fa- 
vorite saddle-horse ;  but  as  soon  as  he  returns  he  shall  be  sent 
to  the  senor." 

Our  party  then  arose  to  depart;  but  Don  Filipo  would  not 
allow  them  to  go  before  they  had  partaken  of  a  tempting 
repast  of  cakes,  fruits,  sweetmeats  and  wine. 

Then,  with  a  real  regret  at  parting  with  this  "fine  old 
\Spanish'  gentleman,"  they  took  leave  and  returned  to  their 
hotel. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  Jem  arrived  in  the  custody 
of  Don  Filipo's  steward,  and  was  regularly  delivered  over 
to  the  safe-keeping  of  Judge  Merlin. 

The  meeting  of  poor  Jem  with  his  old  master  and  friends, 
and  with  his  mother  and  his  sweetheart,  was  at  once  so  touch- 
ing and  so  absurd  that  it  inclined  the  spectator  at  the  same 
time  to  tears  and  laughter. 

"Now,"  said  Judge  Merlin,  as  they  sat  together  in  his 
rooms  that  evening,  "our  work  is  over !  And  this  is  Tuesday 
evening,  and  we  cannot  sail  until  Saturday  morning!  What 
the  deuce  shall  we  do  with  the  three  intervening  days  ?" 

"To-morrow,"  answered  Ishmael,  "we  had  better  see  to  pro- 
viding ourselves  with  an  outfit  for  the  voyage.  Remember 
that  since  our  wardrobe  was  lost  on  the  'Oceana'  we  have  had 


Still  on  the  Track.  171 

hothlng  but  the  single  change  provided  for  us  by  the  captain 
of  the  'Santiago/  " 

"True  I  we  must  have  an  outfit  1  The  purchase  of  that  will 
occupy  one  day ;  but  there  will  be  still  two  left  to  dispose  of.'* 

"On  Tuesday  we  can  spend  the  morning  in  seeing  what- 
ever is  interesting  in  the  city  and  its  suburbs,  and  in  the 
ievening  you  know  we  are  engaged  to  dine  with  Mrs  Tour- 
neysee." 

"Exactly !     But  what  shall  we  do  on  Friday  V 

"Continue  our  sight-seeing  through  the  city  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  have  Mr.  Tourneysee  and  the  Senor  Don "    - 

"Et  cetera,  to  dine  with  us  in  the  evening.  Is  that  what 
you  mean,  Ishmael  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That  will  do,  then.  Now  we  will  go  to  bed,"  said  the 
Judge,  rising  and  taking  liis  bedroom  candle. 

And  that  was  the  signal  for  the  party  to  disperse  and  go 
to  rest. 

The  remainder  of  the  week  was  passed  in  the  manner 
sketched  out  by  Ishmael.  Nevertheless  the  three  days  of 
waiting  semed  to  the  anxious  father  of  Claudia  three  years 
in  length. 

On  Saturday  morning  our  whole  party,  consisting  now  of 
three  gentlemen  and  three  servants,  embarked  on  the  "Cadiz" 
for  Europe. 

Mr.  Tourneysee  and  Don  Filipo  "et  cetera,"  as  the  judge 
called  him,  accompanied  them  to  the  steamer,  and  remained 
with  them  to  the  latest  possible  moment. 

Then,  with  many  fervent  wishes  for  their  prosperity  in  the 
voyage,  the  two  gentlemen  took  leave  of  our  party  and  went 
on  shore.  The  steamer  sailed  at  nine  o'clock.  When  it  was 
well  under  way  Ishmael  looked  around  among  his  fellow- 
passengers,  and  was  pleased  to  recognize  many  of  the  com- 
panions of  his  disastrous  voyage  on  the  "Oceana."  Among 
the  others  was  the  family  of  Dr.  Kerr.  Later  in  the  day, 
as  Ishmael  and  his  shadow,  the  professor,  were  standing  lean- 
ing over  the  bulwarks  of  the  ship  and  watching  the  setting 
Bun  sink  into  the  water,  leaving  a  trail  of  light  upon  the 
surface  of  the  sea,  he  heard  a  familiar  voice  exclaim: 

"Fader  Abraham !  Tere  ish  tat  younk  shentleman  ant  hish 
olt  man  again !" 

And  Ishmael  turned  and  saw  standing  near  him  a  German 
Jew  named  Isaacs,  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  on  the 
ill-fated  "Oceana." 

Ishmael  smiled  and  held  out  his  hand,  and  Isaacs  came 
and  grasped  it,  expressing  his  pleasure  in  having  "von  drue 
shentleman"  for  his  fellow-passenger  once  more. 

And  from  this  day  quite  a  friendship  grew  up  between  the 
young  Ohristian  and  the  old  Jew, 


X7^  Claudia  at  Cameron  Court. 

Without  making  the  least  effort  to  do  so,  lahmael  won  hig 
entire  confidence. 

Isaacs,  reserved  and  uncommunicative  with  every  one  else, 
Beemed  to  find  pleasure  in  talking  to  Ishmael. 

Among  other  voluntary  revelations  Isaacs  informed  Ish- 
mael that  he  was  going  to  England  to  see  his  niece,  who  was 
**von  gread  laty."  She  was  the  daughter,  he  said,  of  his  only 
sister,  who  had  been  the  wife  of  a  rich  English  Jew.  She 
had  married  an  Englishman  of  high  rank;  but  her  husband, 
~es  well  as  her  father  and  mother,  was  dead;  all  were  dead; 
Hnd  she  was  living  in  widowhood  and  loneliness;  and,  ah!  a 
great  wrong  had  been  done  her!  And  here  the  Jew  would 
eigh  dismally  and  shake  his  head. 

Now  Ishmael,  in  the  delicacy  of  his  nature,  would  receive 
all  the  Jew's  voluntary  communications  and  sympathize  with 
all  his  complaints  without  ever  asking  him  a  question.  And 
thus,  as  the  Jew  never  happened  to  mention  the  name  of  his 
niece,  and  Ishmael  never  inquired  it,  he  remained  in  igno- 
rance of  it. 

The  voyage  of  the  "Cadiz,"  considering  the  season  of  the 
year,  might  be  said  to  have  been  very  prosperous. 

The  weather  continued  clear,  with  a  light  wind  from  the 
northwest,  alternating  with  calms. 

Our  party,  having  served  out  their  time  at  sea-sickness  on 
the  "Oceana,"  were  not  called  to  suffer  any  more  from  that 
malady  on  this  voyage. 

On  the  fourteenth  day  out  they  arrived  at  Cadiz,  whence 
they  took  a  steamer  bound  for  Liverpool,  where  they  landed 
on  the  first  of  February,  late  in  the  night. 

They  went  to  a  hotel  to  spend  the  remaining  hours  in 
sleep. 

And  the  next  morning,  after  a  hurried  breakfast,  eaten  by 
candle-light,  they  took  the  express  train  for  Edinboro'. 


CHAPTEK  XXVI. 

CLAUDIA  AT  CAMERON  COURT. 

Cameron  Court,  the  favorite  seat  of  Berenice,  Countess  or 
Hurstmonceux,  was  situated  about  seven  miles  south  of  Edin- 
boro',  on  the  north  banks  of  the  Esk.  It  was  an  elegant, 
modern  edifice,  raised  upon  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  castle, 
overhanging  a  perpendicular  precipice,  with  a  sheer  descent 
of  several  hundred  feet  to  the  river.  It  looked  down  upon 
the  course  of  the  Esk,  winding  between  rocks  of  lofty  height, 
whose  sides  were  fringed  with  a  tangled  mass  of  shrubs,  ferns 
and  thistles,  and  whose  summits  were  crowned  with  thickets 
cf  hazel,  pine  and  birch.     On  still  higher  ground,  behind  tbg 


Claudia  at  Cameron  Court.  173 

house,  and  sheltering  it  from  the  northern  blast,  alood  a 
thick  wood  of  cedar,  beech  and  fir  trees. 

Many  winding  foot-paths  led  through  this  wood,  and  down 
the  rocks  and  along  the  edge  of  the  river. 

A  wilder,  more  pictixresque  and  romantic  spot  could  scarce- 
ly have  been  found  for  a  dwelling-place. 

In  summer,  green  with  foliage,  bright  with  blooming  flow- 
ers, and  musical  with  singing  birds  and  purling  brooks,  it 
was  beautiful! 

But  in  winter,  bound  in  ice,  mantled  with  snow,  and 
gemmed  with  frost,  it  was  sublime ! 

Such  was  the  aspect  of  the  place  without;  while  within 
were  collected  all  the  comforts,  luxuries  and  elegancies  that 
wealth,  taste  and  intellect  could  command. 

Within  a  short  distance  of  this  charming  residence  stood 
Craigmillar  Castle,  an  old  ruin,  memorable  from  having 
been  the  first  residence  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  after  her  re- 
turn from  France ;  and  also  her  favorite  retreat  when  driven 
to  seek  repose  from  the  clashing  antagonisms  of  her  court  at 
Holyrood. 

Nearer  still;  on  the  banks  of  the  Esk,  stood  Roslyn  Castle 
and  Chapel,  famous  in  song  and  story  for  "the  lordly  line 
of  high  St.  Clair;" — and  Hawthornden,  remarkable  for  its 
enormous  artificial  caves,  hewn  out  of  the  solid  foundation 
rocks,  and  used  as  a  place  of  refuge  during  the  barbarous 
wars  of  by-gone  ages ;  and  many  other  interesting  monuments 
of  history  and  tradition. 

To  this  attractive  house  Lady  Ilurstmonceux  had  brought 
Claudia  late  one  winter  afternoon. 

At  that  hour,  between  the  thickness  of  the  Scotch  mist  and 
the  low  gathering  shadows  of  the  night,  but  little  could  be 
seen  or  surmised  of  the  scenery  surrounding  the  house. 

But  Claudia  keenly  appreciated  the  comfort  and  elegance 
of  the  well-warmed  and  brightly-lighted  rooms  within. 

Not  that  they  were  more  luxurious  or  more  splendid  than 
those  she  had  left  forever  behind  at  Castle  Cragg,  but  they 
were — oh!  so  different! 

There  all  the  magnificence  was  tainted  with  the  presence 
of  guilt;  here  all  was  pure  with  innocence.  There  she  had 
been  "under  the  curse;"  here  she  was  "under  the  benedic- 
tion." There  she  had  been  tormented  by  a  devil;  here  she 
was  comforted  by  an  angel.  And  this  is  scarcely  putting 
the  comparison,  as  it  existed  in  her  experience,  too  strongly. 

Even  when  she  had  been  alone  and  unprotected  at  the 
hotel  she  had  experienced  a  rebovmd  of  spirits  from  long  de- 
pression, a  joyous  sense  of  freedom — only  from  ■tfce  single 
cause  of  getting  away  from  Castle  Cragg  and  its  sinful  in- 
mates. 

Eut  now,  added  to  that,  was  the  pleasure  of  friendship,  .th# 


174  Claudia  at  Cameron  Court. 

comforl  of  sympathy  and  the  security  of  protection.  Helief, 
repose,  satisfaction — these  were  the  sensations  of  Claudia  in 
taking  up  her  temporary  abode  at  Cameron  Court. 

The  very  first  evening  seemed  a  festive  one  to  her,  who  had 
been  so  lonely,  so  wretched  and  so  persecuted  at  Castle  Cragg. 

The  countess  took  her  to  a  bright,  cheerful  suite  of  apart- 
ments on  the  second  floor,  v/hose  French  windows  opened 
upon  a  balcony  overlooking  the  wild  and  picturesque  scenery 
of  the  Esk. 

And  when  she  had  laid  off  her  bonnet  and  vsrrappings,  her 
hostess  took  her  down  to  a  handsome  dining-room,  where  an 
elegant  little  dinner  for  two  was  served. 

Ah !  very  different  was  this  from  the  horrible  meals  at  Cas- 
tle Cragg,  or  even  from  the  lonely  ones  at  Magruder's  Hotel. 

Berenice  possessed  the  rare  gift  of  fascination  in  a  higher 
degree  than  any  woman  Claudia  had  ever  chanced  to  meet. 
And  she  exerted  herself  to  please  her  guest  with  such  suc- 
cess that.  Claudia  was  completely  charmed  and  won. 

After  dinner  they  adjourned  to  a  sumptuous  apartment, 
called  in  the  house  "my  lady'S"  little  drawing-room." 

Here  everything  was  collected  that  could  help  to  make  a 
vinter  evening  pass  comfortably  and  pleasantly. 

The  Turkey  carpet  that  covered  the  floor  was  a  perfect  par- 
t#MTe  of  brilliant  flowers  wrought  in  their  natural  colors, 
and  its  texture  was  so  fine  and  thick  that  it  yielded  like 
mose  to  the  footstep.  Crimson  velvet  curtains,  lined  with 
white  satin  and  fringed  with  gold,  draped  the  windows  and 
excluded  every  breath  of  the  wintry  blast.  Many  costly  pic- 
tures, rare  works  of  art,  covered  the  walls.  A  grand  piano- 
forte,  a  fine  harp,  a  guitar  and  a  lute  were  at  hand.  Rich 
inlaid  tables  were  covered  with  the  best  new  books,  magazines 
and  journals.  Indian  cabinets  were  filled  with  unique  shells, 
minerals,  ossifications  and  other  curiosities.  Marble  stands 
supported  vases,  statuettes  and  other  articles  of  vertu.  Last- 
ly, two  soft,  deep  easy-chairs  were  drawn  up  before  the  glow- 
ing fire,  while  over  the  mantel-piece  a  large  cheval  glass  re- 
flected and  duplicated  all  this  wealth  of  comfort. 

With  almost  motherly  tenderness  the  beautiful  countess 
placed  her  guest  in  one  of  these  luxurious  chairs  and  put  a 
comfortable  foot-cushion  under  her  feet.  Then  Berenice 
took  the  other  chair. 

Between  them,  on  a  marble  stand,  stood  a  vase  of  flowers 
and  the  countess'  work-box.     But  she  did  not  open  it. 

She  engaged  her  guest  in  conversation,  and  such  was  the 
charm  of  her  manners  that  the  evening  passed  like  a  pleasant 
dream. 

And  when  Claudia  received  the  kiss  of  Berenice  and  re- 
tired for  the  night,  it  was  with  the  sweet  feeling  of  safety 
added  to  her  sense  of  freedom. 


Claudia  at  Cameron  Court.  1/5 

!A.nd  when  she  awoke  in  the  morning  it  was  to  greet  cvith 
joy  her  new  life  of  sympathy,  security  and  repose. 

As  soon  as  she  rang  her  bell  she  was  attended  by  a  pret.ty 
Scotch  girl,  who  informed  her  that  her  ladyship's  luggage  had 
arrived,  and  had  been  placed  in  the  hall  outside  her  apart- 
ments to  await  her  ladyship's  orders. 

Claudia,  when  she  was  dressed,  went  to  look  after  it,  and 
found,  to  her  surprise,  not  only  her  large  trunk  from  Magru- 
der's,  but  also  her  numerous  boxes  from  Castle  Cragg. 

Upon  inquiry  she  discovered  that  the  boxes  had  been  for- 
warded from  the  castle  to  the  hotel,  and  sent  on  with  the 
trunk. 

She  did  not  stop  to  inspect  any  part  of  her  luggage,  but 
went  down-stairs  into  the  breakfast  parlor,  where  she  found 
Lady  Hurstmonceux  presiding  over  the  table,  and  waiting 
for  her. 

Berenice  arose  and  met  her  guest  with  an  affectionate  em- 
brace, and  put  her  into  the  easiest  chair  nearest  the  fire,  for 
it  was  a  bitter  cold  morning,  and  the  snow  lay  thick  upon  the 
ground  and  upon  the  tops  of  the  fir  trees  that  stood  before  the 
windows,  like  footmen  with  powdered  heads. 

On  turning  up  her  plate  Claudia  found  a  letter. 

"It  is  from  Jean  Murdock,  dear.  Eead  it;  it  refers,  no 
doubt,  to  the  boxes  she  has  forwarded,"  said  Lady  Hurstmon- 
ceux. 

Claudia  smiled,  bowed,  broke  the  seal,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows: 

Castle  Cragg,  Thursday  Morning. 

Me  Leddt — I  hae  the  honor  to  forward  your  leddyship's 
boxes  fra  the  castle.  I  hope  your  leddyship  will  find  a'  richt. 
There  hae  been  unco  ill  doings  here  sin'  your  leddyship  left. 
Me  laird  has  gane  his  ways  up  to  Lunnon;  but  hae  left  the 
piayer-bodie,  Guid  forgie'  him,  biding  her  lane  here.  And 
she  has  guided -us  a'  a  sair  gate  sin'  she  hae  held  thy  reins. 
Auld  Cuthbert  wouldna  bide  her  longer  gin  it  wer'  na  for 
the  luve  o'  the  house!  na  mare  would  I.  I  must  tell  your 
leddyship  about  the  visit  of  the  poleece,  whilk  I  understand 
were  sent  by  your  leddyship's  in  sel'.  They  cam'  the  same 
day  your  leddyship  left.  Me  laird  was  going  away,  and  me 
laird's  carriage  stood  at  the  door;  and  just  as  he  was  step- 
ping into  the  carriage  they  cam'  up  and  spake  till  him.  And 
then  his  lairdship  laughed,  and  invited  them  to  enter  the 
house  and  walk  into  the  library.  And  he  sent  auld  Cuthbert 
to  fetch  me.  And  when  I  went  into  the  library  his  lairdship 
eaid  till  me: 

"Murdock,  these  people  have  come  about  some  goirillas  that 
are  said  to  be  missing.    What  about  them?" 

"If  yotir  lairdship  means  the  puir  negro  bodies,  I  dinna 
ken;  I  hae  nae  seen  ane  of  them  the  day,"  1  answered.    Anci 


176 


Claudia  at  Cameron  Court. 


noo,  me  leddy,  ye  maunt  e'en  just  forgle  an  auld  cummer 
like  meself  gin  she  writes  you  a'  that  followed,  e'en  though 
it  should  cut  you  to  the  heart ;  for  ye  ought  to  ken  weel  the 
ways  o'  your  bitter  ill-wishers.  Aweel,  then,  and  when  I 
had  answered  me  laird,  he  turned  to  the  poleecemeu  and 
said: 

"The  truth  is,  Mr.  Murray,  that  you  have  been  deceived 
by  a  vera  artful  party.  I  may  just  as  well  tell  you  now 
what  in  a  few  days  will  be  the  talk  of  every  tap-room  in  the 
United  Kingdom !  When  I  was  in  America  I  was  re2:ularly 
taken  in  by  a  beautifiil  adventuress,  whom  I  found — worse 
luck — in  the  best  circles  there.  I  married  the  creature  and 
brought  her  to  this  castle,  which  she  has  dishonored."  And 
here,  me  leddy,  he  gave  the  poleeceman  an  exaggerated  ac- 
count of  the  finding  of  Frisbie  in  your  leddyship's  room. 
•And  then  he  rang  the  bell,  and  sent  for  the  player-bodie  and 
her  friend,  who  cam'  in  and  confirmed  a'  that  he  tauld  the 
poleeceman.  And  then  me  laird  spoke  up  and  said  that  the 
negroes  had  run  off  wi'  a  large  quantity  of  jewelry  and  plate; 
that  he  had  nae  doubt  but  your  leddyship  had  gi'e  them  com- 
mission to  purloin  it;  that  your  leddyship's  visit  and  com- 
pleent  to  the  poleece  was  naught  but  a  blind  to  deceive  them; 
and  finally,  that  he  demanded  to  have  a  warrant  issued  for 
the  arrest  of  the  negroes  on  the  charge  of  theft ! 

Aweel,  me  leddy,  ye  ken  that  your  leddyship  and  your  puir 
serving  bodies  are  strangers  here,  and  me  laird  and  a'  hia 
family  are  weel  kenned  folk,  and,  mare  than  that,  they  are 
o'  the  auld  nobility — mare  shame  for  me  laird,  na  better  to 
do  honor  till  his  race.  And  sae  the  lang  and  short  o'  it  is 
that  he  talked  over  the  poleecemen,  sae  that  instead  of  pur- 
tising  their  investigations  in  the  castle,  they  went  off  with 
me  laird  to  have  warrants  out  for  the  apprehension  of  the 
puir  negro  folk,  whilk  I  believe  to  be  as  innocent  of  theft  as  I 
mysel'  or  auld  Cuthbert !  And  noo,  me  leddy,  I  hae  telled  ye 
a',  thinking  till  mesel'  that  ye  aught  to  ken  it.  And  sae  ye 
maun  e'en  just  commit  your  ways  to  the  Lord,  and  put  your 
trust  intil  him.  Auld  Cuthbert  and  mesel'  pray  for  your 
leddyship  ilka  day,  that  ye  may  be  deleevered  fra  the  spoilers, 
and  fra  a'  wha  gang  about  to  wark  you  wae.  Me  laird 
hae  gane  his  ways  up  to  Lunnun,  as  I  tauld  your  leddyship. 
'And  the  player-queen  and  her  cummer  hae  possession  o'  the 
house,  and  guide  a'  things  their  ain  gait,  waes  me!  Gin  I 
could  hear  onything  anent  your  leddyship's  puir  negro  folk, 
I  will  raak'  haste  to  let  your  leddyship  ken.  Aujd  Cuthbert 
begs  permeesion  to  send  his  duty  and  his  prayers  for  your 
leddyship's  happiness.  And  I  mysel'  hae  the  honor  to  be  your 
honorable  leddyship's 

Obfidient  humble  servant  to  command, 

Jean  Mubdock. 


Claudia  at  Cameron  Court.  iff 

When  Claudia  had  finished  reading  this  letter  she  passed 
St  with  a  sad  smile  to  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  who,  as  soon  a3 
ehe  had  in  turn  perused  it,  tossed  it  upon  the  table,  saying, 
ecornf  ully : 

"'Whom  the  gods  wish  to  destroy  they  first  make  madl* 
Lord  Vincent  appears  to  me  to  have  lost  his  reason!  He 
thinks  that  he  is  weaving  a  net  of  circumstantial  evidence 
around  you  for  your  ruin,  when  he  is,  in  fact,  only  involving 
himself  in  intricacies  of  crime,  which  must  inevitably  prove 
his  destruction." 

"I  cannot;  oh,  I  cannot  see  it  in  the  same  light  that  you 
do !  It  seems  to  me  that  he  has  succeeded  in  making  me  ap- 
pear guilty,"  said  Claudia,  with  a  shudder. 

"Ah,  let  us  not  talk  of  it,  since  talking  will  do  no  good  I 
at  least  not  now !  When  your  father  comes,  then  we  will  talk 
and  act,"  said  the  countess,  soothingly,  as  she  set  a  cup  of 
fragrant  coffee  before  her  guest. 

Now,  I  do  not  know  whether  you  care  to  be  informed  how 
Claudia  passed  her  time  during  the  five  weeks  of  her  sojourn 
at  Cameron  Court^  so  I  shall  make  the  description  of  her 
yisit  a  short  one. 

In  the  first  place,  you  may  be  sure,  from  what  you  have 
already  seen  of  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  that  she  would  not  al- 
low her  guest  to  mope. 

As  soon  as  the  snow  ceased  to  fall  and  the  sky  cleared, 
with  a  sharp  northwest  wind  that  froze  the  river  hard,  the 
countess  took  her  guest  out  to  learn  the  exhilarating  art  of 
skating,  and  in  this  way  they  employed  an  hour  or  two  of 
each  morning.  The  remainder  of  the  day  would  be  passed 
in  needlework,  reading,  music  and  conversation. 

When  the  weather  moderated  and  the  ice  was  unsafe  for 
skating  they  substituted  riding  and  driving  excursions,  and 
visited  all  the  remarkable  places  in  the  neighborhood. 

They  visited  Roslyn  Castle  and  went  down  into  those  fear- 
ful vaults,  three  tiers  under  ground,  and  listened  to  the  guide, 
who  told  them  traditions  of  the  princely  state  kept  up  by  the 
ancient  lords  of  Roslyn,  who  had  noblemen  of  high  degree 
for  their  carvers  and  cupbearers ;  and  of  those  ladies  of  Roslyn 
who  never  moved  from  home  without  a  train  of  two  hundred 
waiting  gentlewomen  and  two  hundred  mounted  knights. 

They  visited  Roslyn  Chapel  and  admired  the  unequaled 
beauty  of  its  architecture,  and  gazed  at  the  wondrous  chef 
d'oeuvre — the  "apprentice  pillar" — and  heard  the  story  how 
a  poor  but  gifted  boy,  hoping  to  please,  had  designed  and 
executed  the  work  during  the  absence  of  his  master,  who,  on 
returning  and  seeing  the  beautiful  pillar,  fell  into  a  frenzy 
of  envious  rage  and  slew  his  apprentice. 

They  visited  the  ruins  of  Craigmillar  Castle,  and  stood  in 
the  little  stone  den,  ^ven  fe«t  by  four,  which  is  known  a9 


xyS 


Claudia  at  Cameron  Court. 


*'Queen  Mary's  bedroom."  They  saw  those  deep,  dark  dun» 
geons  where  in  the  olden  times  captives  pined  away  their  lives 
forgotten  of  all  above  ground ;  they  saw  the  "execution  room," 
with  its  condemned  cell,  its  chains  and  staples,  its  instru- 
ments of  torture,  its  altar  and  its  block  1 
It  was  indeed  a 

— "Dire  dungeon,  place  of  doom. 
Of  execution,  too,  and  tomb  1" 

where,  in  those  savage  times,  great  criminals  and  innocent 
victims  were  alike  condemned  unheard,  and  secretly  shrived, 
beheaded  and  buried. 

They  passed  on  to  a  still  more  horrible  dungeon  among 
those  dreaded  vaults — a  circular  stone  crypt  surrounded  by 
tall,  deep,  narrow  niches,  in  which  human  beings  had  beea 
built  up  alive. 

With  a  shudder  Claudia  turned  from  all  these  horrors  to 
the  countess: 

"It  is  said  that  our  country  has  no  past,  no  history,  no 
monuments  I  I  am  glad  of  it !  Better  her  past  should  be  a 
blank  page  than  be  written  over  with  such  bloody  hieroglyph- 
ics as  these  I  When  I  consider  these  records  and  reflect  upou 
the  deeds  of  this  crime-stained  old  land,  I  look  upon  our  own 
young  nation  as  an  innocent  child!  Let  us  leave  this  place. 
It  kills  me,  Berenice." 

On  Sunday  morning  at  the  breakfast-table  Lady  Hurstmon- 
ceiLX  proposed,  as  the  day  was  fine,  that  they  should  drive 
into  Edinboro'  and  attend  divine  service  at  St.  Giles'  Cathe- 
dral, interesting  from  being  the  most  ancient  place  of  wor- 
ship in  the  city;  a  richly-endowed  abbey  and  ecclesiastical 
school  in  the  middle  ages;  and  at  a  later  period,  after  the 
reformation,  the  church  from  which  John  Knox  delivered 
his  fierce  denunciation  of  the  sins  and  sinners  of  his  day. 

All  this  Berenice  told  Claudia  at  the  breakfast-table,  seek- 
ing to  draw  her  thoughts  away  from  the  subject  of  her  owu- 
position. 

But  at  the  invitation  from  Lady  Hurstmonceux  to  attend 
a  Christian  place  of  worship  Claudia  looked  up  in  surprise,, 
and  exclaimed,  impulsively: 

"But  I  thought " 

And  there  she  stopped  and  blushed. 

Lady  Hurstmonceux  understood  her,  smiled,  and  answered: 

**You  thought  that  I  was  a  Jewess !  Well,  I  was  born  and 
brought  up  in  the  Jewish  faith.  But  it  is  now  many  years. 
Lady  Vincent,  since  I  embraced  the  Christian  religion." 

"I  am  very  glad!  I  am  very,  very  glad!  Ala!  I  am  but 
a  poor,  unworthy  Christian  myself,  yet  I  do  rejoice  in  every 
Boul  converted  to  Christ,"  said  Claudia,  warmly,  clasping 
the  hand  ot  her  hostess ;  and^  while  holding  it,  she  coa- 


Claudia  at  Cameron  Court.  179 

tinned  to  say :  "I  do  love  to  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  I  hate  to  live  out  of  itl  That  was  one  reason, 
among  many  others,  vphy  I  was  so  unutterably  wretched  at 
Castle  Cragg.  They  were  such  in'edeemable  atheists !  There 
was  never  a  visit  to  church,  never  a  prayer,  never  a  grace, 
never  a  chapter  from  the  Bible,  never  any  sort  of  acknowl- 
edgment of  their  Creator,  never  the  slightest  regard  to  His 
laws.  Lord  Vincent  and  lErs.  Dugald  would  sit  down  and 
play  cards  through  a  whole  Sabbath  evening,  as  upon  any 
other!  Oh,  it  was  dreadful!  Looking  back  upon  ray  life 
among  them,  I  wonder — yes,  wonder — how  I  ever  could  have 
lived  through  it!  Coming  from  that  place  to  this.  Lady 
Hurstmonceux,  is  like  coming  from  something  very  like  hell 
to  something  very  like  heaven." 

"You  were  tortured  in  many  ways,  my  poor  Claudia !  You 
are  now  off  the  rack,  that  is  all!  And  now,  I  suppose,  we 
are  to  go  to  St.  Giles?" 

"If  you  please,  yes ;  I  should  like  to  do  so." 

Lady  Hurstmonceux  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  the  car- 
riage. 

And  then  the  friends  arose  from  the  breakfast-table  and 
retired  to  prepare  for  church. 

They  enjoyed  a  beautiful  drive  of  seven  miles  through  a 
wildly  picturesque  country,  and  entered  the  town  and  reached 
the  church  in  time  for  the  opening  of  the  services. 

The  preacher  of  the  day  was  a  very  worthy  successor  of 
John  Knox,  having  all  the  faith  and  hope  and  a  good  deal 
more  of  charity  than  that  grand  old  prophet  of  wrath  had 
ever  displayed. 

This  was  the  first  divine  worship  that  Claudia  had  engaged 
in  for  many  months.  It  revived,  comforted  and  strength- 
ened her. 

She  left  the  church  in  a  better  mood  of  mind  than  she 
had  perhaps  ever  experienced  in  the  whole  course  of  her  life. 
Her  inmost  thought  was  this : 

"God  enriched  my  life  with  the  most  bountiful  blessings. 
But  my  sins  turned  them  all  into  curses^  and  brought  all 
my  sorrows  upon  me.  I  will  repent  of  my  sins,  I  will  ac- 
cept my  sorrows.  God  from  His  own  mercy  and  not  for  my 
deserts  has  brought  me  thus  far  alive  through  my  troubles; 
he  has  raised  up  a  friend  to  succor  me.  I  will  bow  down  in 
penitence,  in  humility,  in  gratitude  before  Him,  and  I  will 
try  to  serve  Him  truly  in  the  future,  and  I  will  trust  all  that 
future  to  Him." 

They  reached  home  to  a  late  dinner,  and  spent  the  i^tening 
in  such  serious  reading  and  conversation  and  sacred  music 
as  befitted  the  day. 

Not  one  dull  hour  had  Claudia  esnerienced  during  her  resi- 
dence at  Cameron  Court. 
12 


iSo  Claudia  at  Cameron  Court. 

-On  Monday,  which  was  another  fine  winter  day,  the  count- 
ess said  to  her  guest: 

"This  is  the  day  of  each  week  that  I  always  devote  to  my 
poor.  Would  you  like  to  drive  around  with  me  in  the  pony- 
chaise  and  make  acquaintance  with  the  peasantry  of  Scot- 
land? You  will  find  them  a  very  intelligent,  well-educated 
class." 

"Thank  you;  I  should  enjoy  the  drive  quite  as  much  aa 
any  that  we  have  yet  taken,"  said  Claudia. 

And  accordingly  after  breakfast  the  ladies  set  out  upon 
their  round. 

Berenice  did  not  go  empty-handed.  Hampers  of  food  and 
bundles  of  clothing  filled  up  every  available  space  in  the  car- 
riage. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  drive.  To  every  cottage  that  the 
countess  entered  she  brought  relief,  comfort  and  cheerful- 
ness. 

The  children  greeted  her  with  glad  smiles,  the  middle- 
aged  with  warm  thanks,  and  the  old  with  fervent  blessings. 

Not  from  one  humble  homestead  did  she  turn  without  leav- 
ing some  token  of  her  passage.  With  one  family  she  would 
leave  the  needed  supply  of  food ;  with  another,  the  necessary 
winter  clothing;  with  another,  wine,  medicine  or  books. 
With  others,  very  poor,  she  would  leave  a  portion  of  all  these 
requisites. 

Finally,  when  the  sun  was  sinking  to  his  setting  behind  the 
Pentland  Hills,  she  returned  home  with  her  guest. 

"I  must  thank  you  for  a  very  pleasant  day,  Lady  Hiirst- 
monceux!  One  of  the  pleasantest  I  have  ever  passed  in  my 
life.  For  I  have  witnessed  and  I  have  felt  jnore  real  pleas- 
ure to-day  that  I  ever  remember  to  have  experienced  before, 
fou  have  conferred  much  happiness  to-day !  If  you  dispense 
as  much  on  every  Monday,  as  I  suppose  you  do,  the  aggre- 
gate must  be  very  great,"  said  Claudia,  with  enthusiasm,  as 
they  sat  together  at  tea  that  evening  in  "my  lady's  little 
drawing-room." 

For  some  minutes  Berenice  did  not  reply,  and,  when  she 
did,  she  spoke  very  seriously. 

"If  there  is  one  thing  more  than  another  for  which  I  thank 
God  it  is  for  making  me  one  of  His  stewards.  Do  you  sup- 
pose, Claudia,  that  I  hold  all  the  wealth  He  has  intrusted  to 
me,  as  my  own,  to  be  used  for  my  own  exclusive  benefit  ?  Oh, 
no!  I  feel  that  I  am  but  His  almoner,  and  I  am  often 
ashamed  of  taking,  as  I  do,  the  lion's  share  of  the  good 
things,"  she  added,  glancing  around  upon  the  luxuries  that 
encompassed  her. 

The  next  day  Lady  Hurstmonceux  proposed  another  *ix- 
cursion. 

"I  will  not  take  you  to  visit  any  romantic  old  ruin  thia 


Suspense.  ,  i8i 

inorning ;  but,  to  vary  the  programme,  I  will  take  you  to  sea 
an  interesting  livintg  reality." 

And  accordingly  the  carriage  was  ordered,  and  they  drove 
out  to  New  Haven,  a  fishing  village  within  three  miles  of 
Edinboro',  and  yet  as  isolated  and  as  primitive  in  its  man- 
ners and  customs  as  the  most  remote  hamlet  in  the  country. 

There  Claudia  was  amused  and  interested  in  watching  the 
coming  in  of  the  fishing  boats  and  observing  the  picturesque 
attire  of  the  fish-wives,  and  listening  to  the  deafening  clatter 
of  their  tongues  as  they  chaffered  with  the  fishermen  while 
lading  their  baskets. 
■  This  was  another  pleasant  day  for  Claudia. 

But  it  would  stretch  this  chapter  to  too  great  a  length  to 
describe  each  day  of  her  sojourn  at  Cameron  Court. 

Let  it  suffice  to  say,  in  general  terms,  that  the  countess 
kept  her  guest  usefully  employed  or  agreeably  entertained 
during  the  whole  of  her  visit.  There  was  neither  a  tedious 
nor  a  fatiguing  hour  in  the  five  weeks  of  her  sojourn. 

Every  Sunday  they  attended  divine  worship  at  "St.  Giles' 
Cathedral,"  commonly  called  "John  Knox's  church."  Every 
Monday  they  went  their  rounds  among  the  poor.  Other  daya 
in  the  week  they  visited  interesting  and  remarkable  places  In 
and  around  Edinboro'.  And  thus  cheerfully  passed  the 
days. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SUSPENSE. 

As  the  time  approached  when  Claudia  might  reasonably  ex- 
pect a  reply  to  the  letter  she  had  written  to  her  father,  she 
naturally  became  very  anxious. 

Would  he  answer  that  last  urgent  appeal  by  letter  or  in  per- 
son? That,  was  the  question  she  was  forever  asking  of  her- 
self. 

And  the  response  of  her  heart  was  always  the  same;  he 
woidd  lose  no  time  in  writing,  he  would  hasten  at  once  to 
her  relief ! 

Ah !  but  if  he  should  be  illj  or — even  dead  ?  What  then  ? 
Claudia's  anxiety  grew  daily  more  acute. 

She  had  heard  nothing  of  the  fate  of  her  negroes.  She 
learned  by  a  second  letter  from  Jean  Murdock  that  Mrs.  Du- 
gald  still  remained  at  Castle  Cragg,  "lording  it  o'er  a',"  aa 
the  housekeeper  expressed  it.  And  she  saw  by  the  "Times'* 
that  Malcolm,  Viscount  Vincent,  had  filed  a  petition  for  di- 
yorce  from  his  viscountess.    That  was  all. 

The  fourth  week  had  drawn  nearly  to  its  close,  when,  one 
inorning,  on  coming  to  the  breakfast-table,  Claudia  found 
lying  bedde  her  plate  a  foreign  letter. 


iSz  Suspense. 

At  the  very  first  glance  at  its  superscription  she  recognized 
her  father's  firm  handwriting,  and  with  an  irrepressible  cry 
of  joy  she  snatched  it  up. 

It  was  the  short  letter  Judge  Merlin  had  hastily  penned  on 
the  eve  of  his  journey  to  Washington. 

It  merely  stated  that  he  had  just  that  instant  taken  her 
letters  from  the  post-office,  and  that,  in  order  to  save  the  im- 
mediately outgoing  mail,  he  answered  them  without  leaving 
the  ofSce,  to  announce  to  her  that  he  should  sail  for  England 
on  the  "OceaDa,"  that  would  leave  Boston  on  the  following 
iWednesday.  And  then,  with  strong  expressions  of  indigna- 
tion.against  Lord  Vincent,  sorrow  for  Claudia's  troubles,  and 
affection  for  herself,  the  letter  closed. 

"Oh,  Berenice!  Berenice!  I  am  so  happy!  so  very  happy!'* 
exclaimed  Claudia,  wildly.  "My  father  has  written  to  me! 
he  is  well!  he  is  coming!  he  is  coming!  he  will  be  hero  in  a 
few  days !  in  a  very  few  days !  for  this  letter  was  written  in 
the  post-office,  to  save  the  very  last  mail  that  came  by  the 
steamer  immediately  preceding  the  'Oceana!'  Oh,  Berenice! 
I  could  cry  with  joy!" 

"I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart,  dear  Claudia !  Yes, 
I  should  think  your  father  would  now  be  here  in  two  or  three 
days,  at  farthest,"  said  Lady  Hurstmonceux. 

"And,  oh!  how  shall  I  get  over  the  interval?  Ah,  Bere- 
nice, indulge  me !  Let  us  go  down  to  Liverpool  to  meet  my 
father !" 

"My  dear,  I  would  do  so  in  a  moment,  only  that  I  think  it 
the  worst  plan  you  could  pursue.  In  your  circumstances, 
dearest  Claudia,  we  must  not  go  journeying  through  the 
country.  We  must  live  very  quietly.  And  besides,  though 
the  'Oceana'  may  reasonably  be  expected  in  about  two  or  three 
days,  there  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  she  might  not  ar- 
rive to-day,  or  to-night.  In  which  case,  by  going  down  to 
Liverpool,  we  shall  be  most  likely  to  miss  your  father,  who 
W'ould  be  steaming  up  here." 

"Certainly!  certainly!  I  see  the  reasonableness  of  your 
views ;  but  how,  then,  shall  I  get  over  the  intervening  time  V* 

"I  might  propose  for  you  excursions  to  many  interesting 
places  in  the  vicinity  of  Edinboro'  which  you  have  not  seen; 
but  that  we  must  not  go  far  from  home,  while  expecting 
Judge  Merlin.  We  must  not  happen  to  be  absent  when  your 
father  arrives." 

"Oh,  no!  we  must  not  risk  such  a  thing,  I  know!  Well,  I 
will  wait  as  patiently  as  I  can." 

"And  I  will  tell  you  what  you  may  do,  meantime.  To- 
day you  shall  superintend  in  person  the  preparation  of  a 
suite  of  rooms  for  your  father.  You  shall  let  my  house- 
keeper into  the  secrets  of  all  his  little  tastes,  and  they  shall  be 
considered  ia  tii©  arrangements.    They  will  occupy  on©  day. 


Suspense^  183 


To-morrow,  you  know,  is  Sunday,  and  we  must  go  to  church. 
That  will  occupy  the  second.  The  next  day,  Monday,  we 
will  make  our  weekly  round  among  the  poor.  That  will  oc- 
cupy the  third  day,  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else !  For 
if  there  is  one  employment  more  than  another  that  will  make 
us  forget  our  personal  anxieties  it  is  ministering  to  the  wants 
cf  others!  And,  in  all  human  probability,  before  Monday 
evening  Judge  Merlin  will  be  here !" 

"Yes,  yes!  Oh,  my  dear  father!  I  can  scarcely  realize 
that  I  shall  see  him  so  soon !"  said  Claudia,  with  emotion. 

The  countess'  programme  was  carried  out.  Claudia  spent 
that  day  in  superintending  the  arrangements  of  a  handsome 
suite  of  rooms  for  her  father, 

^  On  Sunday  they  went  to  church.  But  the  text  was  an  un- 
fortunate one  for  Claudia's  spirits.  It  was  taken  from  James 
iv.  and  13th :  "Ye  know  not  what  shall  be  on  the  morrow." 
!And  the  subject  of  the  discourse  was  on  the  vanity  of  humaa 
expectations  and  the  uncertainty  of  human  destiny. 

Claudia  returned  home  greatly  depressed ;  but  that  depres- 
sion soon  yielded  to  the  cheerfulness  of  Lady  Hurstmonceux'a 
manner. 

On  Monday  they  made  their  rounds  among  the  poor;  and 
Claudia  forgot  her  anxieties  and  felt  happy  in  the  happiness 
she  saw  dispensed  around  her. 

Yes,  the  programme  of  the  countess  was  carried  out,  but 
her  previsions  were  not  realized. 

Judge  Merlin  did  not  come  that  evening,  nor  on  the  next 
morning,  nor  on  the  next  evening. 

On  Wednesday  morning  Claudia,  as  usual,  seized  the 
**Times"  as  soon  as  it  was  brought  in,  and  turned  eagerly  to 
the  telegraphic  column.  But  there  was  no  arrival  from 
lAmerica.  Glancing  farther  down  the  column,  eh©  suddenly/; 
grew  pale  and  exclaimed : 

"Oh,  Berenice!" 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  inquired  the  countess. 

Claudia  read  aloud  the  paragraph  that  had  alarmed  her: 

"The  'Oceana'  is  now  several  days  overdue.  Serious  ap- 
prehensions are  entertained  for  her  safety/' 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  my  dear !  At  this  season  of  the  year 
the  steamers  are  frequently  delayed  beyond  their  usual  time 
of  arrival,"  said  the  countess,  with  a  cheerfulness  that  she 
was  very  far  from  really  feeling. 

"But  if  there  should  have  been  an  accident!" 
"My  dear,  that  line  of  steamers  has  never  had  an  accident. 
[A.nd  their  good  fortune  is  not  the  effect  of  luck,  but  of  the 
great  care  bestowed  by  the  company  and  its  officers  upon 
the  safety  of  those  who  trust  to  them  their  lives  and  goods. 
!Re-assure  yourself,  Claudia." 
But  that  > was  easier  said  thaa  done.    There  or  four  mov&  of 


184  Suspense. 

ansious  days  and  nights  passed,  during  wluch  Claudia 
T^'atched  the  papers  for  the  arrival  of  the  ocean  steamers ;  but 
all  in  vain,  until  the  Saturday  morning  of  that  week,  when, 
as  usual,  she  opened  the  "Times"  and  turned  to  the  tele- 
graphic column. 

She  could  scarcely  repress  a  cry  of  anguish  that  arose  to 
her  lips  on  reading  the  following: 

"Arrival  of  the  ocean  steamers.  The  screw  propeller  'Su- 
perior,' with  New  York  mails  of  the  15th,  has  reached 
Queenstown.  On  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland  she  passed  the 
wreck  of  a  large  steamer,  supposed  to  be  the  missing 
*Oceana.' " 

"Oh,  Berenice!  Oh,  Berenice!  Can  this  be  true?  Ohl 
Speak  a  word  of  hope  or  comfort  to  me!"  cried  Claudia, 
wringing  her  hands  in  the  extremity  of  mental  agony. 

"My  dear,  let  us  still  hope  for  the  best !  There  is  no  cer- 
tainty that  it  is  the  wreck  of  the  'Oceana.'  There  is  no  cer- 
tainty that  the  'Oceana'  is  wrecked  at  all.  She  is  delayed; 
that  is  all  which  is  known.  And  that  is  often  the  case  with 
the  ocean  steamers  at  this  season  of  the  year,  as  I  told  you 
before !"  said  the  countess,  trying  to  inspire  Claudia  with  a 
hope  that  she  herself  scarcely  dared  to  indulge. 

But  Claudia's  face  was  drawn  with  anguish. 

"Oh,  the  suspense!  the  terrible  agony  of  suspense!  'It  is 
worse  than  death!"  she  cried. 

The  countess  essayed  to  comfort  her,  but  In  vain. 

All  that  day,  and  for  many  succeeding  ones,  Claudia  was 
like  a  victim  stretched  upon  the  rack.  The  torture  of  un- 
certainty was  harder  to  endure  than  any  certainty;  it  was, 
as  she  had  said,  "worse  than  death,"  worse  than  despair! 
Some  two  weeks  passed  away,  during  which  her  very  breath 
of  life  seemed  almost  suspended  in  the  agony  of  hope  that 
could  not  die. 

At  length  one  morning,  on  descending  to  the  breakfast- 
parlor,  she  found  Lady  Hurstmonceux  reading  the  "Times." 

"Any  news?"  inquired  Claudia,  in  a  faint  voice. 

The  countess  looked  up.  Claudia  read  the  expression  of 
her  face,  which  seemed  to  say : 

"Prepare  for  good  news." 

"Oh,  yes !  there  is !  there  is !"  exclaimed  Claudia,  suddenly 
snatching  the  paper  and  turning  to  the  telegraphic  coliman, 
and  then,  with  a  cry  of  joy,  sinking  into  her  seat. 

"Let  me  read  it  to  you,  my  dear;  you  are  incapable  of  do- 
ing so,"  said  Berenice,  gently  taking  the  paper  from  her 
hand  and  reading  aloud  the  following  paragraph: 

News  of  the  "Oceana." — The  Oriental  and  Peninsular 
Steam  Packet  Company's  ship  "Albatross"  has  arrived  at 
liiverpool,   bringing   all   the    vnssengers   and   crew  of   the 


Suspense.  185 

"Oceana,"  wrecked  on  the  banks  of  Newfoundland.  They 
were  picked  up  by  the  "Santiago,"  bound  for  Havana,  and 
taken  to  that  port,  whence  they  sailed  by  the  "Cadiz"  for 
the  port  of  Cadiz,  whence  lastly  they  were  brought  by  the 
"Albatross"  to  Liverpool.  Among  the  passengers  saved  was 
Chief -Justice  Merlin  of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court, 
Ishmael  Worth,  Esquire,  a  distinguished  member  of  the 
Washington  bar,  and  Professor  Erasmus  Kerr,  of  the  Glas- 
gow University.  The  ship-wrecked  passengers  have  all  ar- 
rived in  good  health  and  spirits,  and  have  already  dispersed 
to  their  various  destinations. 

"This  is  too  much  joy !  Oh,  Berenice !  it  is  too  much  joy !" 
cried  Claudia,  bursting  into  tears  and  throwing  herself  into 
the  arms  of  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  and  weeping  freely  on  the 
sympathetic  bosom  of  that  faithful  friend. 

"Claudia,  dear,"  whispered  that  gentle  lady,  "go  to  your 
room  and  shut  yourself  in,  and  kneel  and  return  thanks  to 
God  for  His  great  mercy.  And  so  shall  your  spirit  be 
calmed  and  strengthened." 

Claudia  ceased  weeping,  kissed  her  kind  monitress,  and 
went  and  complied  with  her  counsel. 

And  very  fervent  was  the  thanksgiving  that  went  up  to 
heaven  from  her  relieved  and  grateful  heart. 

She  had  finished  her  prayers  and  had  arisen  from  her 
knees,  and  was  sitting  by  her  writing-table  indulging  in  a 
reverie  of  anticipation,  when  a  bustle  below  stairs  attracted 
her  attention. 

She  listened. 

Yes!  it  was  the  noise  of  an  arrival! 

With  a  joyous  presentiment  of  what  had  come  to  the 
house,  Claudia  rushed  out  of  the  room  and  down  the  stairs 
to  the  lower  entrance  hall,  and  the  next  moment  found  her- 
self clasped  to  the  bosom  of  her  father. 

For  a  few  moments  neither  spoke.  The  embrace  was  a 
fervent,  earnest  but  silent  one. 

The  judge  was  the  first  to  break  the  spell. 

"Oh,  my  child !  my  child !  thank  God  that  I  find  you  alive 
and  well !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  broken  voice. 

"Oh,  my  father!  my  dear,  dear  father!"  began  Claudia; 
but  she  broke  down,  burst  into  tears,  and  wept  upon  hia 
bosom. 

He  held  her  there,  soothing  her  with  loving  words  and 
tender  caresses,  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  do  when  she 
was  but  a  child  coming  to  him  with  her  childish  troubles. 

When  Claudia  had  exhausted  her  passion  of  tears,  she 
looked  up  and  said: 

"But,  papa,  you  have  not  been  in  the  drawing-room  yet? 
You  have  not  seen  Lady  Hurstmonceux  ?" 

"No,  my  dear;  I  have  but  just  arrived!    Claudia,  iiruiiQ- 


l86  Father  and  Daughter. 

diately  upon  my  landing  I  took  the  first  train  north,  and 
reached  Edinboro'  this  morning,  I  sent  my  party  on  to  Ma- 
gruder's  Hotel  and  took  a  fly  and  drove  immediately  out 
here.  I  have  but  just  been  admitted  to  the  house,  and  sent 
my  card  in  to  the  hostess.  And,  ah!  there!  I  see  tliat  my 
messenger  has  returned." 

A  servant  in  livery  came  up,  bowed,  and  said:     - 

"My  lady  directs  me  to  say  to  you,  sir,  that  she  will  see 
you  immediately  in  the  drawing-room,  unless  you  would  pre- 
fer to  go  first  to  the  apartments  which  are  prepared  for  you, 
sir." 

The  judge  hesitated,  and  then  turned  to  his  daughter  and 
whispered  the  inquiry: 

"How  do  I  look,  Claudia?    Presentable?" 

Lady  Vincent  ran  her  eyes  over  the  traveler  and  answered : 

"Not  at  all  presentable,  papa !  You  look  just  as  one  might 
expect  you  to  do !  black  with  smoke  and  dust  and  cinders,  a» 
if  you  had  traveled  in  the  train  all  night !" 

"WTiich,  of  course,  I  did." 

"And  I  think  you  would  be  all  the  better  for  a  visit  to  your 
rooms,  papa !  Come !  I  will  show  you  the  way,  for  I  am  aa 
much  at  home  here  as  ever  I  was  at  dear  old  Tanglewood. 
James,"  she  said,  turning  to  the  footman  who  had  brought 
the  message,  "you  need  not  wait!  I  will  show  my  papa  hia 
rooms;  but  you  may  order  breakfast  for  him,  for  I  dare  say 
he  has  had  none.    Come,  papa !" 

And  so  saying  Claudia  marshaled  her  father  up-stairs  to 
the  handsome  suite  of  apartments  that  had  been  made  ready 
for  him. 

When  he  had  renovated  his  toilet,  he  declared  himself 
ready  to  go  below  and  be  presented  to  his  hostess. 

Claudia  conducted  him  down-stairs  and  into  "my  lady's  lit- 
tle drawing-room." 


CHAPTER   XXYin. 

PATHEn     AND     DAUGHTER. 

The  countess  was  sitting  on  one  of  the  arm-chairs  near  the 
fire  when  Claudia  led  the  judge  up  before  her,  saying  only : 

"Lady  Hurstmonceux,  my  father." 

The  countess  arose  and  held  out  her  hand  with  a  smile  of 
welcome,  saying: 

"It  gives  me  much  joy  to  see  you  safe,  after  all  your 
dangers,  Judge  Merlin.     Pray  sit  near  the  fire." 

The  judge  retained  her  hand  in  his  own  for  a  moment, 
while  he  bowed  over  it  and  answered : 

"I  thank  you  for  your  kind  expression*,  dear  Lady  Hurst- 
monceux.   But,  oh  I  what  terms  shall  I  find  strong  6DCSigh 


Vsither  and  Daughter.  187 

to  thank  you  for  the  noble  support  you  have  given  my 
daughter  in  her  great  need?" 

"Believe  me,  I  was  very  happy  to  be  serviceable  to  Lady 
Vincent,''  replied  the  countess,  gently.  Then,  turning  to 
Claudia,  she  said: 

"Your  father  has  probably  not  had  breakfast." 

''1^0 ;  but  I  assumed  the  privilege  of  ordering  it  for  him," 
replied  the  latter. 

"The  'privilege'  was  yours  without  assumption,  my  dear. 
You  did  exactly  right,"  said  the  countess. 

"I  see  that  my  daughter  is  quite  at  home  with  you,  madam," 
observed  the  judge. 

"Oh,  I  adopted  her !  I  told  her  that  I  should  be  her  moth^ 
until  the  arrival  of  her  father,"  replied  Lady  Hurstmonceux, 
smiling. 

At  this  moment  the  footman  put  his  head  in  at  the  door 
to  say  that  "his  honor"  the  judge's  breakfast  was  served. 

Lady  Hurstmonceux  led  the  way  to  the  breakfast-parlor, 
and  then,  saying: 

"You  will  make  your  father  comfortable  here,  Claudia,  I 
hope,"  she  bowed  and  left  them  alone  together. 

Claudia  sat  down  to  the  table  and  began  to  pour  out  the 
coffee. 

Jamea,  the  footman,  was  in  attendance. 

"Dismiss  the  servant,  my  dear,"  said  the  judge,  as  he  took 
his  seat  as  near  to  his  daughter  as  the  conveniences  of  the 
table  would  allow. 

"You  may  retire,  James.    I  will  ring  if  you  are  wanted." 

The  man  bowed  and  went  out. 

The  father  and  daughter  looked  up;  their  eyes  met  and 
filled  with  tears. 

"Oh,  my  child,  how  much  we  have  to  say  to  each  other  I" 
sighed  the  judge. 

"Yes;  but,  dear  papa,  drink  your  coffee  first!  You  really 
look  as  though  you  needed  it  very  much,"  replied  Claudia,  af- 
fectionately. 

The  judge  complied  with  her  advice;  though,  if  the  truth 
must  be  told,  he  ate  and  drank  indiscreetly  fast  in  order  to 
get  through  soon  and  be  at  liberty  to  talk  to  his  daughter. 

When  he  arose  from  the  table  Claudia  rang  the  bell  for 
the  service  to  be  removed,  and  then  led  the  way  again  to  my- 
lady's  little  drawing-room. 

It  was  deserted. 

Lady  Ilurstmonceux  had  evidently  left  it  that  the  father 
and  daughter  might  converse  with  each  other  unembarrassed 
by  the  presence  of  a  third  person. 

"lly  dear,"  said  the  judge,  as  he  seated  himself  on  the  sofa 
beside  his  daughter,  wound  his  arm  around  her  shoulders,  and 
looked  wistfu%  into  her  face,  "do  you  kaow  J^ftt  I  Rm  gUT" 


1 88  Fatlier  and  Daughter. 

prised  to  see  you  looking  so  well  ?  You  must  possess  a  great 
deal  of  fortitude,  Claudia,  to  have  passed  through  so  much 
trouble  as  you  have  and  show  so  few  sig^ns  of  suffering  as 
you  do!" 

"Ah,  papa!  if  you  had  arrived  a  few  days  ago  and  seen  me 
then,  you  would  have  had  good  cause  to  say  I  looked  well! 
But,  for  the  past  week,  the  intense  anxiety  I  have  felt  on  your 
account  has  worn  me  considerably." 

''My  poor  girl!  Yes,  I  know  how  that  must  have  been. 
The  news  of  the  shipwreck  arrived  long  before  we  reached 
England,  and  every  one  must  have  given  us  up  for  lost !" 

'7  did  not!  Oh,  no!  I  could  not!  I  still  hoped;  but,  oh  I 
with  what  an  agony  of  hope !" 

"Such  hope,  my  child,  is  worse  than  despair." 

"Oh,  no!  I  thought  so  then!  I  do  not  think  so  now; 
now  that  I  have  you  beside  me !" 

"Now  that  it  is  ended!  But,  oh,  my  dear  child,  how 
hard  it  was  for  you  to  have  anxiety  for  my  fate  added  to  all 
your  other  troubles !" 

"Papa,  anxiety  for  your  fats  was  my  only  trouble!"  said 
Claudia,  gravely, 

"How!  what!  your  only  trouble,  Claudia?  I  do  not  un- 
derstand you  in  the  least." 

"All  my  other  troubles  had  passed  away.  And  now  that 
anxiety  is  at  an  end^  that  trouble  is  also  passed  away,  and  I 
have  none." 

"None,  Claudia  ?    How  you  perplex  me,  my  dear !" 

"None,  papa !     I  left  them  all  behind  at  Castle  Cragg." 

"I  do  not — cannot  comprehend  you,  my  dear!" 

"No,  papa,  you  cannot  comprehend  me !  no  one  could  pos- 
sibly comprehend  me  who  had  not  been  placed  in  something 
like  my  own  position !  But — can  you  not  imagine  that  when 
a  victim  has  been  stretched  upon  the  rack  and  tortured  by 
executioners  it  is  comfort  enough  simply  to  be  taken  off  it? 
Or  when  a  sinner  has  been  in  purgatory,  tormented  by  fiends, 
it  is  heaven  enough  only  to  be  out  of  it?  Oh,  papa,  that  is 
not  exaggeration !  That  is  something  like  what  I  suffered  at 
Castle  Cragg!  something  like  what  I  enjoy  in  being  away 
from  it !  Think  of  it,  papa !"  said  Claudia,  gulping  down  the 
hysterical  sob  that  arose  to  her  throat — "think  of  it !  me,  an 
honorable  woman,  the  daughter  of  Christian  parents,  to  find 
myself  living  in  the  house,  sitting  at  the  table,  in  daily  com- 
munication with  creatures  that  no  honest  man  or  pure 
woman  would  ever  willingly  approach !  Think  of  me  being 
not  only  in  the  company  but  in  the  power  and  at  the  mercy 
of  such  wretches !" 

"'Think,'  Claudia!  I  have  thought  until  my  brain  has 
nearly  bursted !  Oh,  I  shall — no  matter  what  I  shall  do !  I 
wi^l  threaten  no  longer;  but^  b^  all  my  hopes  of  S:^lvation,  I 


Fatlier  and  Daughter.  189 

will  act  I  Tte  remorseless  monster !  the  infamous  villain  t  I 
do  not  know  how  you  lived  through  it  all,  Claudia !" 

"I  do  not  know  myself,  papa.  Oh,  sir,  I  never  fully  real- 
ized my  life  at  Castle  Cragg  until  I  got  away  from  it  and 
could  look  back  on  it  from  a  distance.  For  the  trouble  then 
grew  around  me  gradually ;  slowly  astonishing  me,  if  you  can 
conceive  such  a  thing;  benumbing  my  heart;  stupefying  my 
brain;  deadening  my  sensibilities;  else  I  conld  not  have  en- 
dured it  so  quietly!  Ah,  it  would  have  ended  in  death, 
though !  death  of  the  body !  perhaps  death  of  the  soul !  But 
still  I  knew  enough,  felt  enough,  to  experience  and  appreciate 
the  infinite  relief  of  being  delivered  from  it!  Oh,  papa! 
looking  back  upon  that  home  of  horror,  that  den  of  infamy, 
I  understand  in  what  hell  consists — not  in  consmning  fire, 
but  in  the  company  of  devils.  Oh,  sir,  if  you  could  only 
place  yourself  in  my  position  and  feel  what  it  was  for  me  to 
leave  that  polluted  atmosphere  of  sensuality,  treachery  and 
hatred,  and  to  come  into  this  pure  air  of  refinement,  truth 
and  love,  you  would  understand  how  it  is  that  I  can  feel  no 
trouble  now !" 

"I  do !  but  still  I  wonder  to  see  you  so  well." 

"Oh,  sir,  you  know,  severe  as  my  tortures  were,  they  were 
only  superficial,  only  skin-deep;  they  did  not  reach  the 
springs  of  my  spirit!  That  is  the  reason  why  in  being  re- 
lieved I  am  so  perfectly  at  ease." 

"Then  you  never  loved  that  scoundrel,  Claudia  ?" 

"No,  father,  I  never  loved  him.  Therefore,  the  memory  of 
his  villainy  does  not  haunt  me,  as  otherwise  it  might.  Not 
loving  him,  I  ought  never  to  have  married  him.  If  I  had  not, 
I  should  have  escaped  all  the  suffering." 

"Ah,  Claudia,  would  to  heaven  you  never  had  married 
him,"  sighed  the  judge,  without,  however,  intending  to  cast 
the  least  reproach  on  his  daughter. 

She  felt  the  reproach,  however,  and  exclaimed,  with  pas- 
sionate earnestness: 

"Oh,  father,  do  not  blame  me !  do  not !  I  could  not  help  it ! 
Oh !  often  I  have  examined  my  conscience  on  that  score  and 
asked  myself  if  I  could !  And  the  answer  has  always  come — 
no,  with  my  nature,  my  passions,  my  pride,  my  ambition,  I 
could  not  help  doing  as  I  have  dond!" 

"Could  not  Help  marrying  a  man  you  could  not  love,  Clau- 
dia?" 

"No,  papa,  no !  There  were  passions  in  my  nature  stronger 
than  love!  These  spurred  me  on  to  my  fate!  I  was  born 
with  a  great  deal  of  pride,  inherited  from — no  one  knows 
how  many  ancestors !  This  should  have  been  curbed,  trained, 
directed  into  worthy  channels.  But  it  was  not!  I  was  left 
ito  develop  naturally,  with  the  aid  only  of  intellectual  educa- 
ition.    I  did  dev^op^  from  a^  proud,  frank,  high-spirited  girl^ 


190  Father  and  Dauglitei*. 

into  a  vain,  scheming,  ambitious  woman  1  I  married  for  a 
title !  And  this  is  the  end !  How  true  it  is  that  'pride  goeth 
before  a  fall  and  a  haughty  temper  before  destruction !' " 

"Oh,  Claudia!  Claudia!  every  word  you  speak  wounds  me 
like  a  sword-thrust!  It  was  my  'theory'  that  did  it  all!  I 
eaid  I  would  let  my  trees  and  my  daughter  grow  up  as  nature 
intended  them  to  do.  And  what  is  the  result?  Tanglewood 
has  grown  into  an  inextricable  wilderness  that  nothing  but 
a  fire  could  clear !  and  my  daughter's  life  has  run  to  waste !" 
groaned  the  judge,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"Papa!  dear,  dearest  papa!  do  not  grieve  so!  I  did  not 
mean  to  give  you  pain !  I  did  not  mean  to  breathe  the  slight- 
est reflection  upon  so  kind  a  father  as  you  have  always  been 
to  me !  I  meant  only  to  explain  myself  a  little.  But  I  wish 
I  had  not  spoken  so !  Forget  what  I  have  said,  papa !"  said 
Claudia,  tenderly  caressing  her  father. 

"Let  it  all  pass,  my  dear  child,"  eaid  the  judge,  embracing 
her. 

"And,  papa,  my  life  has  not  run  to  waste !  do  not  think  it  1 
I  told  you  that  my  troubles  had  not  touched  the  sjiringa 
of  my  soul!  they  have  not!  Is  not  my  mind  as  strong  and 
my  heart  as  warm  and  my  spirit  as  sweet  as  ever?  Papal 
this  day  I  am  a  better  woman  for  all  the  troubles  1  have 
passed  through!  I  have  never  before  been  much  comfort  to 
you,  my  poor  papa;  but  I  will  go  with  you  to  Tanglewood 
and  make  your  home  happier  than  it  has  ever  been  since 
mamma  died.  And  you  will  find  that  my  life  shall  be  re- 
deemed from  waste." 

"Claudia,  are  you  sure  that  you  do  not  love  that  rascal — 
not  even  a  little?" 

"Papa,  I  do  not  even  hate  him!  now  judge  if  I  ever  could 
have  loved  him !" 

But  the  judge  was  no  metaphysician,  and  he  looked  puz- 
zled. 

"Papa,  if  I  ever  had  loved  that  man,  do  you  not  suppose 
that  his  unfaithfulness,  neglect  and  insults,  to  say  nothing 
of  his  last  foul  wrong  against  me,  would  have  turned  all  my 
love  into  hatred  ?  But  I  never  loved  him,  therefore  all  that 
he  could  do  would  not  provoke  my  hatred.  Papa,  he  is  as 
much  below  my  hatred  as  my  love  1" 

"Oh,  Claudia,  Claudia!  that  you  should  be  compelled  to 
speak  80  of  one  whom  you  made  your  husband !" 

"Papa,  dear,  you  asked  me  a  question,  and  I  have  replied  to 
it  truthfully." 

"My  dear,  I  had  a  motive  for  putting  that  question.  I 
wished  to  know  whether  a  spark  of  love  for  that  man  survived 
in  your  heart  to  make  his  punishment  a  matter  of  painful  in- 
terest to  you.  For  to  vindicate  you,  Claudia,  it  may  be  nec- 
essary to  prosecute  him  with  the  utmost  rigor  of  the  lawl 


Father  and  Daughtefr  I9X 

i 

necessary,  in  fact,  to  disgrace  and  ruin  him!"  said  the 
judge,  solemnly. 

"Papa,  dear,  what  are  you  talking  about?  Prosecute  him 
to  the  utmost  extent  of  the  law?  Disgrace  and  ruin  him? 
Why,  it  appears  to  me  that  you  do  not  know  the  circum- 
stances, as,  of  course,  you  cannot.  He  has  schemed  so  suc- 
cessfully, papa,  that  he  has  everything  his  own  way.  All  the 
evidence,  the  false  but  damning  evidence,  is  in  his  favor 
and  against  me !  It  seems  to  me,  reflecting  coolly  upon  the 
circumstances,  to  be  quite  impossible  that  he  should  be  pun- 
ished or  I  should  be  vindicated — in  this  world  at  least !" 

"Claudia,  I  know  more  of  these  circumstances  than  you 
think  I  do.  I  know  more  of  them  than  you  do !  and  I  repeat 
that,  in  order  to  vindicate  your  honor,  fully,  it  may  be  neces- 
sary to  prosecute  Malcolm,  Lord  Vincent,  with  the  utmost 
rigor  of  the  law !  to  bring  him  to  the  felon's  dock !  to  send 
him  to  the  hulks!  Now,  are  you  willing  that  this  should 
be  done?" 

Claudia  turned  very  pale  and  answered : 

"Let  the  man  have  justice,  papa,  if  it  places  him  on  the 
scaffold!" 

"There  are  two  courses  open  to  us,  Claudia.  The  first  is — 
simply  to  let  him  alone  until  he  brings  his  suit  for  'divorce, 
and  then  to  meet  him  on  that  ground  with  such  testimony  as 
shall  utterly  defeat  him  and  destroy  his  plea !  In  that  case 
you  will  be  vindicated  from  the  charge  that  he  has  brought 
against  you,  but  not  from  the  reproach  that,  however  unde- 
served, will  attach  to  a  woman  who  has  been  the  defendant 
in  a  divorce  trial,  and  he  will  go  unpunished.  The  second 
course  is  to  prosecute  him  at  once  in  the  criminal  court  for 
certain  of  his  crimes  that  have  come  to  my  knowledge,  and 
60  put  him  out  of  the  possibility  of  suing  for  a  divorce.  And 
in  that  case  your  honor  would  go  unquestioned,  and  he  would 
be  condemned  to  a  felon's  fate — penal  servitude  for  years! 
Now,  Claudia,  I  place  the  man's  destiny  in  your  hands.  Shall 
we  defend  ourselves  against  him  in  a  divorce  court,  or  shall 
we  prosecute  him  in  a  criminal  court  ?" 

"Papa"— said  Claudia,  hesitating,  and  then  speaking  low — 
"what  does  Ishmael  advise?" 

"Ishmael  ?     How  did  you  know  he  was  with  me,  my  dear  ?" 

"I  saw  his  name  in  the  list  of  passengers,  and  I  knew  that 
he  had  come  on  with  you  as  a  private  counsellor.'* 

"Yes,  he  did,  at  a  vast  sacrifice  of  his  business ;  but,  then, 
I  never  knew  "Worth  to  shrink  from  any  seK-sacrifice." 

"What  is  his  advice  ?"  asked  Claudia,  in  a  low  voice. 

"He  does  more  than  advise;  in  this  matter  he  dictates;  I 
had  almost  said  he  commands  1  at  least  he  insists  that  the  di- 
vorce suit  shall  not  be  permitted  to  come  on!  that  it  shall 
be  stopped  by  the  arrest  of  Lord  Vincent    upon  criminal 


19^  Fatter  and  Daugliter. 


charges  that  we  shall  be  able  to  prove  upon  him.  AnC  thai 
after  the  conviction  of  the  viscouat  you  shall  bring  suit  for 
a  divorce  from  him;  for  that  it  would  not  be  well  that  your 
fate  should  remain  liiilicd  to  that  of  a  felon." 

"Then,  papa,  let  it  be  as  Mr.  Worth  says ! — and  if  the  prose- 
cution should  place  the  viscount  on  the  scaffold — let  it  place 
him  there !"  ^  . 

"It  will  not  go  so  far  as  that,  my  dear — not  in  this  Oen- 
turj\  If  he  had  lived  in  the  last  century,  and  amused  him- 
self as  he  has  done  in  this,  he  would  have  swung  for  it !  that 
is  certain." 

"Papa !  what  is  it  that  you  have  found  out  about  him  ? 
"Was  he  implicated  in  the  death  of  poor  Ailsie  Dunbar  ?  And, 
if  BO,  how  did  you  find  it  out  ?     Tell  me." 

"My  dearest,  we  have  both  much  to  tell  each  other.  But 
I  wish  to  hear  your  story  first.  Remember,  Claudia,  those 
alarming  letters  yoxi  sent  me  were  very  meagre  in  their  de- 
tails! Tell  me  everything,  my  child;  everj^thing  from  the 
time  you  left  me  until  the  time  you  met  me  again." 

"Papa,  dear,  it  is  a  long,  grievous,  terrible  story !  I  do  not 
know  how  you  will  bear  it !  You  are  sensitive,  excitable,  im- 
petuous !  I  scarcely  dare  to  tell  you !  I  fear  to  see  how  you 
will  bear  it!    I  dread  its  effects  upon  you." 

"Claudia,  my  dearest,  conceal  nothing;  tell  me  all;  and  I 
promise  to  restrain  my  emotions  and  listen  to  you  calmly." 

Upon  this  Claudia  commenced  the  narrative  of  her  suffer- 
ings from  the  moment  of  parting  with  her  father  at  Boston 
to  the  moment  of  meeting  him  at  Cameron  Court.  The 
reader  is  already  acquainted  with  the  story  and  does  not  need 
to  hear  Claudia's  narration.  Judge  Merlin  also  knew  m.uch 
of  it,  as  much  as  old  Katie  had  been  able  to  impart  to  him; 
but  he  Vv'ished  to  hear  a  more  intelligent  version  of  it  from 
his  daughter.  It  was,  as  she  had  said,  a  long,  sorrowful,  ter- 
rible story;  such  as  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  woman  to  re- 
cite calmly.  Some  parts  of  it  were  told  with  pale  cheeks, 
faltering  tones  and  falling  tears;  other  parts  were  told  with 
fiery  blushes,  flashing  eyes  and  clenched  hands. 

At  its  conclusion  Claudia  said: 

"There,  papa!  I  have  hidden  nothing.  I  have  told  you 
everything.  Now  at  last  you  will  believe  me  when  I  tell  you 
how  perfectly  relieved  I  feel  only  to  be  out  of  that  purgatory ! 
only  to  be  away  from  those  fiends!  Now  at  last  you  will  see 
how  it  is  that  I  can  say  without  ruth,  'Let  Malcolm,  Lord 
Vincent,  have  justice,  though  that  justice  consign  him  to 
penal  servitude,  or  to  the  gallows!'  But,  papa,  when  I  said 
I  had  no  trouble  left,  I  spoke  in  moipantary  forget  fulness  of 
my  poor  servants ;  heaven  forgive  me  for  it !  Though,  really, 
uncertainty  about  their  fate  is  the  only  care  I  have." 

"My  dear."  said  the  jud?""    'who  had  comported  himself 


I^atter  and  Daughtef.  193 

ivlth  wonderful  calmness  through  the  trying  hour  of  Clau- 
dia's narration — "my  dear,  cast  that  care  to  the  winds !  Your 
servants  are  safe  and  well  and  near  at  hand !" 

"  'Safe  and  well,  and  near  at  hand !'  Oh,  papa,  are  you 
certain?  quite  certain?"  exclaimed  Claudia,  in  joy  modified 
by  doubt. 

"Quite  certain,  my  dearest,  since  I  myself  lodged  them  at 
Magruder's  Hotel  this  morning,"  said  the  judge. 

"Oh,  thank  heaven !"  exclaimed  Claudia,  fervently.  "But, 
papa,  tell  me  all  about  it.  When,  where  and  how  were  they 
found?" 

"About  three  weeks  ago,  in  Havana,  by  Ishmael,"  answered 
the  judge,  speaking  directly  to  the  point. 

His  daughter  looked  so  amazed  that  he  hastened  to  say : 
'  "It  is  easily  understood,  Claudia.  You  mentioned  in  the 
course  of  your  narrative  that  you  suspected  the  viscount  of 
having  spirited  away  the  negroes.  Your  suspicion  was  cor- 
rect. Tln-ough  the  agency  of  chloroform  he  abducted  the  ne- 
groes and  got  them  on  board  a  "West  Indian  smuggler,  that 
took  them  to  Havana,  and  sold  them  into  slavery.  When  we 
went  there  on  the  'Santiago'  we  found,  recognized  and  re- 
covered them." 

"And  what  was  his  motive — the  viscount's  motive,  I  mean — 
for  selling  my  poor  regroes  into  slavery,  and  thereby  com- 
mitting a  felony  that  would  endanger  his  reputation  and  hia 
liberty?  It  could  not  have  been  the  want  of  money.  The 
highest  price  they  would  bring  could  scarcely  be  an  object 
to  the  Viscount  Vincent.  What,  then,  could  have  been  hia 
motive  ?" 

"What  you  mentioned  that  you  suspected  it  to  be,  Claudia 
— to  get  rid  of  dangerous  witnesses  against  himself.  But  I 
had  better  tell  you  the  whole  story,"  said  the  judge ;  and  with 
that  he  began  and  related  the  history  of  the  conspiracy  en- 
tered into  by  the  viscount,  the  valet  and  the  ex-opera  singer, 
and  overheard  by  Katie;  the  discovery  and  seizure  of  the 
eavesdropper,  and  the  abdue^on  and  sale  of  the  negroes. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  narrative  he  said : 

''So  you  see,  Claudia,  that  we  have  got  this  man  completely 
in  our  power.  Look  at  his  crimes !  First,  complicity  in  the 
murder  of  Ailsie  Dunbar;  secondly,  conspiracy  against  your 
honor;  thirdly,  kidnapping  and  slave-trading!  The  man  is 
already  ruined ;  and  you,  my  dear,  are  saved !" 

"Oh,  thank  heaven !  thank  heaven !  that  at  least  my  name 
will  be  rescued  from  reproach,"  cried  Claudia,  earnestly, 
clasping  her  hands  and  bursting  into  tears  of  joy,  and  weep- 
ing on  her  father's  bosom. 

"Yes,  Claudia,"  he  whispered,  as  he  gently  soothed  her; 
**yes,  my  child — thank  heaven  first  of  all !  for  there  was  some- 
thing strangely^  providential  in  the  seemingly  dire  misfor- 


194  Father  and  Daughter. 


tune  that  was  the  cause  of  our  being  taken  to  Havana!  For 
if  wo  had  not  gone  thitlier  we  should  never  have  found  the 
negi'oes;  and  if  we  had  not  found  them  it  would  have  beea 
difficult,  or  impossible,  to  have  vindicated  you." 
"Oh,  I  know  it !  And  I  do  thank  heaven !" 
"And,  after  heaven,  there  is  one  on  earth  to  whom  your 
thanks  are  due — Ishmael  Worth!  Not  because  he  was  the 
first  to  find  the  negroes,  for  that  was  an  accident,  but  be- 
cause he  sacrificed  so  much  to  attend  me  on  this  voyage; 
and  because  he  has  been  of  such  estimable  value  to  me  in 
this  business.  Claudia,  but  that  I  had  him  with  me  in 
Havana,  I  should  not  now  be  by  your  side.  But  that  I  had 
hira  with  me,  I  should  have  plunged  myself  headlong  into 
two  law  cases  that  would  have  detained  me  in  Havana  for 
an  indefinite  time !  But  that  I  had  him  with  me  to  restrain, 
to  warn  and  to  counsel,  I  should  have  prosecuted  the  smug- 
glers for  their  share  in  the  abduction  of  the  negroes,  and  I 
should  have  sued  the  owners  for  the  recovery  of  them.  But  I 
yielded  to  Ishmael's  earnest  advice,  and  by  the  sacrifice  of  a. 
sum  of  money  and  a  desire  of  vengeance,  I  got  easy  posses- 
sion of  the  negroes  and  brought  them  on  here.  You  owe 
much  to  Ishmael  Worthy  Claudia." 

"I  know  it !  oh,  I  know  it !    May  heaven  reward  him !" 
"And  now  our  witnesses  are  at  hand;  and  before  night, 
Claudia,  warrants  shall  be  issued  for  the  arrest  of  the  Vis- 
count Vincent,  Alick  Frisbie,  and  Faustina  Dugald." 

"They  can  have  no  suspicion  of  what  is  coming  upon  them, 
and  therefore  will  have  no  chance  to  escape." 

"Not  a  bit!    We  shall  come  upon  them  unawares." 

"How  astonished  they  will  be !" 

"Yes — and  how  confounded  when  confronted  with  my  wit- 
nesses I" 

"Papa,  I  am  not  maliciouSj,  but  I  think  I  should  like  to  see 
their  faces  then!" 

"My  dearest  Claudia,  you  will  have  to  imagine  them.  You 
will  not  be  an  eye-witness  of  their  confusion.  You  will  not 
be  required  either  at  the  preliminary  examination  or  at  the 
trial,  and  it  would  not  be  seemly  that  you  should  appear  at 
either." 

"Oh,  I  know  that,  papa !  And  I  am  very  glad  that  I  shall 
not  be  wanted.  But  will  the  testimony  of  those  three  negroes 
be  sufficient  to  convict  the  criminals?" 

"Amply.  But  that  testimony  will  not  be  unsupported. 
We  shall  summon  the  steward  and  housekeeper  of  Castle 
Cragg.  And  now,  my  dear,  I  must  leave  you,  if  the  warrants 
are  to  be  issued  to-day,"  said  the  judge,  rising, 

"So  soon,  papa  ?" 

*'It  is  necessary,  my  dear." 


Father  and  Daughter.  195 

^*But,  at  any  rate,  you  will  be  back  very  shortly?" 

"I  do  not  know,  my  child." 

''The  countess  expects  you  to  make  Cameron  Court  your 
home  while  you  remain  in  the  neighborhood." 

"Lady  Hurstmonceux  has  not  said  so  to  me,  Claudia." 

"She  has  had  no  fit  opportunity.  Wait  till  you  start  to 
go." 

"By  the  way,  I  must  take  leave  of  my  kind  hostess,"  said 
the  judge,  looking  around  the  room  as  if  in  search  of  some- 
thing or  somebody. 

Claudia  touched  the  bell. 

A  footman  entered. 

"Let  the  countess  know  that  the  judge  Is  going." 

The  servant  bowed  and  withdrew,  and  Lady  Hurstmon- 
ceux entered. 

"Going  so  soon.  Judge  Merlin  ?"  she  said. 

"Just  what  my  daughter  has  this  moment  asked!  Yes, 
madam;  and  you  will  acknowledge  the  urgency  of  my  busi- 
ness, when  I  tell  you  that  it  is  to  lodge  information  against 
Lord  Vincent  and  his  accomplices,  and  procure  their  imme- 
diate arrest,  upon  the  charge  of  certain  grave  crimes  that 
have  come  to  my  knowledge,  and  that  I  am  prepared  to 
prove  upon  them." 

"You  surprise  me,  sir!  I  certainly  had  reason  to  suspect 
Lord  Vincent  and  his  disreputable  companions,  but  I  am 
amazed  that  in  so  shox't  a  time  you  should  have  ferreted  out 
so  much!" 

"It  was  accident,  madam ;  or  rather,"  said  the  judge,  grave- 
ly bending  his  head,  "it  was  Providence.  My  daughter  will 
explain  the  circumstances  to  you,  madam.  And  now,  will  you 
permit  me  once  more  to  thank  you  for  your  great  goodness 
to  me  and  mine,  and  to  bid  you  good-morning?" 

"I  hope  it  will  be  only  good-morning,  then,  judge,  and  not 
good-by.  I  beg  that  you  will  return  and  take  up  your  resi- 
dence with  us  while  you  remain  in  Scotland,"  said  the  count- 
ess, with  her  sweet  smile. 

"I  should  be  delighted  as  well  as  honored,  madam,  in  being 
your  guest,  but  I  am  off  to  Banff  by  the  midday  train." 

"Off  to  Banff?"  repeated  Berenice  and  Claudia,  in  ft 
breath. 

"Certainly." 

"What  is  that  for?"  inquired  Claudia. 

"Why,  my  dear,  there  is  where  I  must  lodge  information 
against  the  viscount  and  his  accomplices !  There  is  where 
the  crimes  were  committed,  and  where  the  warrants  must  be 
issued." 

"Oh,  I  see." 

"I  had  forgotteTiI     X  was  thinking;   or  rather  without 
13 


tg6  Fatlier  and  Daugliter. 

thinking  at  all,  I  was  taking  it'  for  granted  that  it  could  be 
all  done  in  Edinboro',"  smiled  the  countess. 

"Madam,  I  must  still  leave  my  daughter  a  pensioner  on 
tour  kindness  for  a  few  days,"  said  the  judge,  with  a  bow. 

"You  say  that  as  if  you  supposed  it  possible  for  me  to  per- 
mit you  to  do  anything  else  with  her!"  laughed  the  countess, 
holding  out  her  hand  to  the  judge.  He  raised  it  to  his  lips, 
bowed  over  it,  and  resigned  it,  all  in  the  stately  old-time  way. 
Then  he  turned  to  his  daughter,  embraced  her  and  departed. 

"Now,  Claudia,  tell  me  what  the  judge  has  found  out  about 
Vincent!  Was  he  implicated  in  that  murder?  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he  was !"  said  the  countess,  impatiently. 

"That  is  just  what  I  thought;  but  that  is  not  the  case. 
Oh,  Berenice,  what  a  revelation  it  is!  but  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it!"  said  Claudia. 

And  when  they  were  cosily  seated  together  beside  the  draw- 
ing-room fire,  Claudia  related  the  story  her  father  had  told 
her  of  the  conspiracy  against  her  own  honor,  the  abduction 
and  sale  of  the  negroes,  and  the  recognition  and  recovery  of 
them. 

"I  am  not  surprised  at  anything  in  that  story,  but  the 
providential  manner  in  which  the  servants  were  recovered! 
I  believe  the  viscount  capable  of  every  crime,  or  restrained 
only  by  his  cowardice.  If  he  should  hesitate  at  assassina- 
tion, I  believe  it  would  not  be  from  the  horror  of  blood- 
guiltiness,  but  from  the  fear  of  the  gallows !  I  hope  that  no 
weak  relenting,  Claudia,  will  cause  either  you  or  your  father 
to  spare  such  a  ruthless  monster!" 

"No,  Berenice,  no.  I  have  said  to  my  father,  'Let  Lord 
Vincent  have  justice,  though  that  justice  place  him  in  the 
felon's  dock,  in  the  hulks,  or  on  the  scaffold !'  No,  I  do  not 
believe  it  would  be  fair  to  the  community  to  turn  such  a  mau 
loose  upon  them." 

While  Lady  Hurstmonceux  and  Lady  Vincent  conversed 
in  this  manner.  Judge  Merlin  drove  to  Edinboro'. 

He  reached  Magruder's  hotel,  where  he  had  left  Ishmael 
Worth,  the  professor  and  the  three  negroes. 

Ishmael  had  lost  no  time ;  he  had  seen  that  the  whole  party 
had  breakfast;  and  then  he  had  gone  himself  and  engaged 
a  first  class  carriage  in  the  express  train  that  started  for 
[Aberdeen  at  twelve  noon. 

They  were  now,  therefore,  only  waiting  for  Judge  Merlin. 
And  as  soon  as  the  judge  arrived,  the  whole  party  started 
for  the  station,  which  they  reached  in  time  to  catch  the 
train. 

Three  hours'  steaming  northward,  and  they  ran  into  the 
station  at  Aberdeen. 

The  stage  was  just  about  starting  for  Banff.  They  got 


Arrest  of  Lord  Vincent  and  Faustina.    197 

into  it  at  once,  and  in  three  more  hours  of  riding,  they; 
reached  that  picturesque  old  town. 

Merely  waiting  long  enough  to  engage  rooms  at  the  best 
hotel,  and  deposit  their  luggage  there,  they  took  a  carriage 
and  drove  to  the  house  of  Sir  Alexander  McKetchum,  who 
was  one  of  the  most  respected  magistrates  of  Banff. 

Judge  Merlin  introduced  himself  and  his  party,  produced 
his  credentials,  laid  his  charge,  and  presented  his  witnesses. 

To  say  that  the  worthy  Scotch  justice  was  astonished, 
amazed,  would  scarcely  be  to  describe  the  state  of  panic  and 
consternation  into  which  he  was  thrown. 

Long  he  demurred  and  hesitated  over  the  affair ;  again  and 
again  he  questioned  the  accusers ;  over  and  over  he  required 
to  hear  the  statement;  and  slowly  and  reluctantly  at  last  he 
consented  to  issue  the  warrants  for  the  apprehension  of  Lord 
Vincent,  Alick  Frisbie,  and  Faustina  Dugald. 

Ishmael  took  care  to  see  that  these  warrants  were  placed 
in  the  hands  of  an  efficient  policeman,  with  orders  that  he 
should  proceed  at  once  to  the  arrest  of  the  parties  named 
within  them. 

And  then  our  party  returned  to  their  hotel  to  await  re^ 
suits. 


CHAPTEK  XXIX. 

ARREST  OF   LORD^  VINCENT   AND   FAUSTINA. 

Lord  Vincent  was  at  Castle  Cragg.  Unable  to  absent  him- 
self long  from  the  siren  who  was  the  evil  genius  of  his  life, 
he  had  come  down  on  a  quiet  visit  to  her.  A  very  quiet  visit 
it  was,  for  he  affected  jealously  to  guard  the  honor  of  one 
who  in  truth  had  no  honor  to  lose. 

The  guilty  who  have  much  to  conceal  are  often  more  dis- 
creet than  the  innocent  who  have  nothing  to  fear. 

Mrs.  MacDonald  was  still  at  the  castle,  playing  propriety 
to  the  beauty.  A  very  complacent  person  was  Mrs.  Mac- 
Donald. 

This  precaution  deceived  no  one.  The  neighboring  gentry 
rightly  estimated  the  domestic  life  at  Castle  Cragg  and  the 
character  of  its  inmates,  and  refrained  from  calling  there. 

This  avoidance  of  her  society  by  the  county  families  galled 
Faustina. 

''What  do  they  mean  by  it?"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  am 
the  Honorable  Mrs.  Dugald  I  Ah !  they  think  I  have  lost  my- 
self !  Ah !  they  shall  know  better  when  they  see  me  the  Vis- 
covmtess  Vincent,  and  afterward,  no  one  knows  how  soon. 
Countess  of  Hurstmonceux  and  Marchioness  of  Banff  1  del! 
iwhat  a  difference  that  will  make  1" 

And  Faustjua  consoled, herself  with  anticipations  of  a 


198    Arrest  of  Lord  Vincent  and  Faustina. 

brilliant  future,  in  which  ehe  should  reign  as  a  queen  over 
these  scornful  prudes. 

But  Faustina  reckoned  without  Nemesis,  her  creditor. 
And  Nemesis  was  at  the  door. 

It  was  a  wild  night.  The  snow  storm  that  had  been  threat- 
ening all  day  long  came  down  like  avalanches  whirled  before 
the  northern  blast.  It  was  a  night  in  which  no  one  would 
willingly  go  abroad;  when  every  one  keenly  appreciated  the 
comforts  of  shelter. 

Very  comfortable  on  this  evening  was  Mrs.  Dugald's  bou- 
doir. The  crimson  carpet  and  crimson  curtains  glowed  ruddy 
red  in  the  lamplight  and  firelight.  The  thundering  dash  of 
the  sea  upon  the  castle  rock  below  came,  softened  into  a 
soothing  lullaby,  to  this  bowser  of  beauty. 

Lord  Vincent  and  Mrs.  Dugald  were  seated  at  an  elegant 
and  luxurious  little  supper  that  would  have  satisfied  the 
most  fastidious  and  dainty  epicure.  Three  courses  had  been 
removed.  The  fourth — the  dessert — was  upon  the  table. 
Rare  flowers  bloomed  in  costly  vases;  ripe  fruits  blusbed  in 
gilded  baskets;  rich  wines  sparkled  in  antique  flasks. 

On  one  side  of  the  table  Faustina  reclined  gracefully  in  a 
crimson  velvet  easy-chair.  The  siren  was  beautifully  dressed 
in  the  pure  white  that  her  sin-smooted  soul,  in  its  falsehood, 
affected.  Her  robe  was  of  shining  white  satin,  trimmed  with 
soft  white  swan's  down;  fine  white  lace  delicately  veiled  her 
snowy  neck  and  arms ;  white  lilies  of  the  valley  wreathed  her 
raven  hair  and  rested  on  her  rounded  bosom. 

She  looked  "divinely,"  as  her  fool  of  a  lover  assured  her. 
Yes,  she  looked  "divinely,"  as  the  devil  did  when  he  ap- 
peared in  the  image  of  an  angel  of  Kght. 

How  did  she  dare,  that  guilty  and  audacious  woman,  to 
assume  a  dress  that  symbolized  purity  and  humility? 

Lord  Vincent  lolled  in  the  other  arm-chair  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  table,  and  from  under  his  languid  and  half- 
tipsy  eyelids  cast  passionate  glances  upon  her. 

Mrs.  MacDonald  had  withdrawn  her  chair  from  the  table 
and  nearer  the  fire,  and  had  fallen  asleep,  or  complacently 
affected  to  do  so;  for  Mrs.  MacDonald  was  the  soul  of  com- 
placency! Mrs.  Dugald  declared  that  she  was  a  love  of  an 
old  lady. 

"What  a  night  it  is  outside  1  It  is  good  to  be  here,"  said 
Faustina,  taking  a  bunch  of  ripe  grapes  and  turning  toward 
the  fire. 

"Yes,  my  angel,"  answered  the  viscount,  drowsily,  regard- 
ing her  from  under  his  eyelids.    "What  a  bore  it  is !" 

"What  is  a  bore?"  inquired  Faustina,  putting  a  ripe  grape 
between  her  plump  lips. 

"That  we  are  not  married,  my  sweet  1" 

"Eh  hien!  we  soon  shall  bd!" 


Arrest  of  Lord  Vincent  and  Faustina.     199 

"Then  why  do  you  keep  me  at  such  a  distance,  my  angel  V 

"Ah,  bah !  think  of  something  else !" 

The  viscount  poured  out  a  bumper  of  rich  port  and  raised 
it  to  his  lips. 

"Put  that  wine  down,  Malcolm,  you  have  had  too  much 
abeady !" 

He  obeyed  her  and  set  the  glass  untasted  on  the  board. 

"That's  a  duck !  now  you  shall  have  some  grapes !"  she  said, 
and,  with  pretty,  childish  grace,  she  began  to  pick  the  ripest 
grapes  from  her  bunch,  and  put  them  one  by  one  into  the 
noble  noodle's  mouth. 

"It  is  nice  to  be  here,  is  it  not,  mon  ami?"  she  smilingly 
asked. 

"Yes,  sweet  angel !"  he  sighed,  languishingly. 

"And  when  one  thinks  of  the  black  dark  and  sharp  cold 
and  deep  snow  outside ;  and  of  travelers  losing  their  way,  and 
getting  buried  in  the  drifts  and  freezing  to  death,  one  feels 
so  happy  and  comfortable  in  this  warm,  light  room,  eating 
"fruit  and  drinking  v/ine !" 

"Yes,  sweet  angel!  but  you  won't  let  m.e  have  any  more 
wine !"  said  the  viscount,  drowsily. 

"You  have  had  more  than  enough!"  she  smiled,  putting  a 
ripe  grape  between  his  gaping  lips. 

"Just  as  you  say,  sweet  love  I  You  know  I  am  youv  slave  I 
You  do  with  me  as  you  like !"  he  answered,  stupidly. 

"Now,"  said  Faustina,  her  thoughts  still  running  on  the 
contrast  between  the  storm  without  and  the  comfort  within, 
"what  in  this  world  would  tempt  one  to  leave  the  house  on 
such  a  night  as  this  ?" 

"Nothing  in  the  world,  sweet  love !" 

"Malcolm,  I  do  not  think  I  would  go  out  to-night,  even  in 
a  close  carriage,  for  a  thousand  pounds !" 

"No,  my  angel,  nor  for  ten  thousand  should  you  go !" 

"I  like  to  think  of  the  people  that  are  out  in  the  cold, 
though!  It  doubles  my  enjoyment,"  she  said,  as  she  put 
another  grape  in  his  mouth. 

"Yes,  sweet  love!"  he  answered,  drowsily,  closing  his  fin- 
gers on  her  hand,  and  drawing  her  forcibly  toward  "him. 

"Ah!  stop!"  she  exclaimed,  under  her  breath,  and  direct- 
ing his  attention  to  Mrs.  MacDonald,  who  sat  with  her  eyes 
closed  in  the  easy-chair  by  the  chimney-corner. 

"She  is  asleep!"  said  the  dscount,  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"No !  no !  you  are  not  certain !"  whispered  Faustina. 

"Come,  come !  sit  close  to  me !"  exclaimed  the  viscount, 
with  fierce  vehemence,  drawing  her  toward  him. 

"You  forget  yourself!  You  are  drunk,  Malcolm!"  cried 
Faustina,  resisting  his  efforts. 

At  that  moment  there  came  a  rap  at  the  door;  it  was  a 


200    Arrest  of  Lord  Vincent  and  I^austlna. 

soft,  low  tap,  yet  it  startled  the  viscount  like  a  thunderclap. 
He  dropped  the  hand  of  Faustina,  and  demanded,  angrily : 

"Who  the  fiend  is  there  ?" 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  rap  was  gently  repeated, 

"Speak,  then,  can't  you  ?  Who  the  demon  are  you  ?"  he 
cried,  fiercely. 

"Why  don't  you  tell  them  to  come  in  ?"  said  Faustina,  in  a 
displeased  tone. 

"Come  in,  then,  set  fire  to  you,  whoever  you  are!"  ex- 
claimed Lord  Vincent. 

The  door  was  opened  and  old  Cuthbert  softly  entered. 

"What  the  fiend  do  you  want,  sir?"  haughtily  demanded 
the  viscount;  for  he  had  lately  taken  a  great  dislike  to  old 
Cuthbert,  as  well  as  to  every  respectable  servant  in  the  house, 
whose  humble  integrity  was  a  tacit  rebuke  to  his  own  dis- 
honor; and  least  of  all  would  he  endure  the  intrusion  of  one 
of  them  upon  his  interviews  with  Faustina. 

"What  brings  you  here,  I  s'ay?"  he  repeated. 

"An'  it  please  your  lairdship,  there  are  twa  poleecemen 
down-stairs,  wi'  a  posse  at  their  tails,"  answered  the  old 
'  man,  bowing  humbly. 

"What  is  their  business  here?" 

"I  dinna  ken,  me  laird." 

"Something  about  that  stupid  murder,  I  suppose!" 

Faustina  started;  she  was  probably  thinking  of  Katie. 

"I  dinna  think  it  is  onything  connected  wi'  Ailsie's  death, 
me  laird." 

"What,  then?  What  mare's  nest  have  they  found  now, 
the  stupid  Dogberries?" 

"I  canna  tak'  upon  mesel'  to  say,  me  laird.  But  they  are 
asking  for  yer  lairdship  and  Mistress  Dugald." 

"Me  !" 

This  exclamation  came  from  Faustina,  who  turned  deadly 
pale,  and  stared  wildly  at  the  speaker.  Indeed,  her  eyes  and 
her  face  could  be  compared  to  nothing  else  but  two  great 
black  balls  set  in  a  marble  mask. 

"Me!!" 

"Ay,  mem,  e'en  just  for  yer  aln  sel',  and  na  ither,  forbye 
it  be  his  lairdship's  sel',"  replied  the  old  man,  bowing  with 
outward  humility  and  secret  satisfaction,  for  Cuthbert  cor- 
dially disapproved  and  disliked  Faustina. 

''Ciel!  I  see  how  it  is !  The  dead  body  of  the  black  woman 
has  been  cast  up  by  the  sea,  as  I  knew  it  would  be !  and 
we  shall  all  be  guillotined — no ! — hanged,  hanged  by  the  neck 
till  we  are  dead  I"  she  cried,  wringing  and  twisting  her  hands 
in  deadly  terror. 

"I  wish  to  heaven  you  may  be,  for  an  incorrigible  fool!'* 
muttered  the  viseoun+-,  in  irrepressible  anger;  for,  you  see, 
his  i)assion  for  this  woman  wa?  not  of  a  nature  to  preclude 


Arrest  of  Lord  Vincent  and  Faustina.    201 

the  possibility  of  his  falling  into  a  furious  passion  with  her 
upon  occasions  like  this.  "What  madness  has  seized  you 
now?"  he  continued.  "There  is  no  danger;  you  have  no 
cause  to  be  alarmed.  They  have  probably  come  about  the 
murder  of  Ailsie  Dunbar,  Satan  burn  them !  Cuthbert,  what 
are  you  lingering  here  for  ?    Go,  see  what  it  is !" 

The  old  man  bowed  lowly,  and  left  the  room. 

"Faustina!"  exclaimed  the  viscount,  as  soon  as  Cuthbert 
had  gone,"  your  folly  will  be  the  ruin  of  us  both  some  day! 
will  lead  to  discovery!  Can  you  not  let  the  black  woman,  as 
you  call  her,  rest?    Why  will  you  be  so  indiscreet?" 

"Oh,  del!  it  is  you  who  are  indiscreet  now,"  exclaimed 
Faustina,  clasping  her  hands  and  glancing  toward  Mrs.  Mac- 
Donald,  whose  sleep  seemed  too 'deep  to  be  real. 

"Try  to  govern  yourself,  then!"  said  the  viscount. 

"Ah,  how  can  I,  when  I  am  quaking  like  a  jelly  with  my 
terror !" 

"You  should  not  undertake  dangerous  crimes  unless  you 
possess  heroic  courage,"  said  the  viscount. 

"Mon  Dieu!  It  is  you  who  will  ruin  us!"  cried  Faustina, 
stamping  her  small  feet  and  pointing  to  Mrs.  MacDonald. 

The  viscount  laughed. 

And  at  this  moment  old  Cuthbert  re-entered  the  room. 

"Well?"  asked  Lord  Vincent. 

"If  you  please,  me  laird,  they  say  they  maun  see  yer  laird- 
ehip's  sel'  and  the  leddy,"  said  the  old  man. 

"What  the  blazes  do  they  want  with  us?  Was  ever  any- 
thing so  insolently  persistent?  Go  and  tell  the  fellows  that 
I  cannot  and  will  not  see  them  to-night!  And  if  they  are 
disappointed,  it  will  serve  them  right  for  coming  out  on  such 
a  night  as  this.    They  must  have  been  mad !" 

"Verra  weel,  me  laird.  I'll  tell  them,"  said  the  old  man, 
departing. 

"Compose  yourself,  Faustina  f  This  business  has  no  refer- 
ence to  you,  I  assure  you.  When  they  asked  for  us,  they 
merely  wished  to  see  us  to  put  some  questions  about  the  case 
of  Ailsie  Dunbar,"  said  the  viscount,  who  had  not  the  slight- 
est suspicion  that  there  was,  or  could  be,  a  warrant  out  for 
his  arrest.  He  fancied  himself  entirely  secure  in  his  crimes. 
He  believed  the  negroes  to  be  safe  beyond  the  sea ;  sold  into 
slavery  in  a  land  of  which  they  did  not  even  understand  the 
language,  and  from  which  they  never  would  be  allowed  to  re- 
turn. He  believed  Claudia  to  be  crushed  under  the  con- 
spiracy he  had  formed  against  her.  He  believed  her  father 
to  be  far  away.  And  so  he  considered  himself  safe  from  all 
interruption  in  his  iniquities.  What  was  there,  in.  fact,  to 
arouse  his  fears  ?    What  had  he  to  dread  ? 

Nothing,  he  thought. 

And  hie  was  still  laughing  at  Faustina's  weakness  as  b** 


202     Arrest  of  Lord  Vincent  and  Faustina. 

stoud  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  when  once  more  the  door 
opened  and  old  Cuthbert  reappeared,  wearing  a  frightened 
countenance  and  followed  by  two  policemen. 

Faustina  shrieked  with  terror,  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands  and  shrunk  back  in  her  chair. 

Mrs.  llacDonald,  aroused  by  the  shriek  from  her  real  or 
feigned  sleep,  opened  her  eyes  and  stared. 

But  Lord  Vincent,  astonished  and  indignant,  strode  to- 
ward the  door  and  demanded  of  his  old  servant: 

"What  means  this  intrusion,  sir?  Did  I  not  order  you  to 
say  to  these  persons  that  I  would  not  see  them  to-night  ?  How 
dare  you  bring  them  to  this  room  ?" 

"  'Deed,  me  laird,  I  could  na  help  it !  "When  I  gie  them 
yer  lairdship's  message  they  e'en  just  bid  me  gang  before, 
and  sae  they  followed  me  up,  pushing  me  to  the  right  and 
left  at  their  ain  will,"  said  Cuthbert,  sullenly. 

Lord  Vincent  turned  to  the  intruders  and  haughtily  de- 
manded : 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  conduct,  fellows?  Were 
you  not  told  that  I  would  not  see  you  to-night  ?  How  dare 
you  push  yourselves  up  into  the  private  apartment  of  these 
ladies  ?    Leave  the  room  and  the  house  instantly."        ' 

"We  will  leave  the  room  and  the  house,  my  lord ;  but  when 
we  do  so,  you  and  that  lady  must  go  with  us,"  said  the  taller 
of  the  two  policemen,  advancing  into  the  room. 

"What?"  demanded  the  viscount. 

"MoN  DiEU ! !"  shrieked  Faustina. 

"Gracious,  goodness,  me,  alive!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mac- 
Donald. 

"You  are  wanted,"  answered  the  policeman,  whose  name, 
by  the  way,  was  McRae. 

"What  do  you  mean,  fellow?  Leave  the  room,  I  say,  be- 
fore I  order  my  servant  to  kick  you  out !"  fiercely  cried  the 
viscount. 

The  policeman  immediately  stepped  up  to  the  side  of  his 
lordship  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  saying: 

"Malcolm  Dugald,  Lord  Vincent,  you  are  my  prisoner!" 

"Your  prisoner,  you  scoundrel !  hands  off,  I  say !"  cried  the 
viscount. 

"I  arrest  you  in  the  queen's  name,  for  the  abduction  and 
selling  into  slavery  of  the  three  negroes,  Catherine  Mortimer, 
James  Mortimer  and  Sarah  Sims/'  said  McRae,  taking  a 
firmer  hold  of  his  captive. 

"Let  go  my  collar,  you  infernal  villain  1  And  show  me 
your  warrant  I"  tlnmdered  Lord  Vincent,  wrenching  himself 
from  the  grasp  of  the  policeman. 

McRae  calmly  produced  his  warrant  and  placed  it  in  the 
hands  of  the  viscount. 

Lord  Vincent,  astonished,  terrified  but  defiant,  hold  thg 


Arrest  of  Lord  Vincent  and  Faustina.    203 

document  up  before  his  dazed  eyes  and  tried  to  read  it.  But 
though  he  held  it  with  both  hands  close  to  his  blanched  face, 
it  trembled  so  in  his  grasp  that  he  could  not  trace  the  char- 
acters written  upon  it. 

While  he  held  it  thus,  McRae  slyly  drew  something  from 
his  own  pocket,  approached  the  viscount,  and 

Clicl!    Click! 

The  handcuffs  were  fastened  upon  the  wrists  of  his  lord- 
ship! 

Down  fluttered  the  warrant  from  the  relaxed  fingers  of  the 
viscount,  while  his  face,  exposed  to  view,  seemed  set  in  a 
deadly  panic  as  he  gazed  upon  his  captor. 

"Look  to  him,  Ross,"  said  McRae,  addressing  his  comrade 
and  pointing  to  the  viscount. 

Then  he  stepped  up  to  the  <;owering  form  of  Mrs.  Dugald, 
who  had  shrunk  to  the  very  back  of  her  deep  velvet  chair. 
Laying  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  he  said : 

"Faustina  Dugald,  you  are  my  prisoner !  I  arrest  you  in 
the  queen's  name,  upon  the  charge  of  having  aided  and 
fbetted  Lord  Vincent  in  the  abduction  of '^ 

*'Ah!  del!  let  me  go,  you  horrid  brute!"  cried  Faustina, 
suddenly  finding  her  voice,  interrupting  the  officer  with  her 
shrieks  and  springing-  from  under  his  hand. 

She  rushed  toward  the  passage  door  with  the  blind  im- 
pulse of  flight  and  tore  it  open,  only  to  find  herself  stopped 
by  a  posse  of  constables  drawn  up  without.  They  had  come 
in  force  strong  enough  to  overcome  resistance  if  necessary. 

"Give  yourself  up,  Faustina!  It  is  the  best  thing  you 
can  do,"  said  the  viscount. 

She  stared  wildly  like  a  hunted  hare,  and  then  turned  and 
made  a  dash  toward  her  bedroom  door,  but  only  to  be  caught 
in  the  arms  of  McRae,  who  stepped  suddenly  thither  to  inter- 
cept her  mad  flight. 

He  held  her  firmly  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he 
drew  something  quietly  from  his  pocket  and  suddenly  snapped 
the  handcuffs  upon  her  wrists. 

She  burst  into  passionate  tears. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  do  this,  madam,  but  you  forced  me  to 
it,"  said  McRae,  gravely  and  kindly. 

She  was  a  pitiful  object,  as  she  stood  there,  guilty,  de- 
graded and  powerless.  Her  wreath  of  lilies  had  been  knocked 
off  and  trampled  under  foot  in  the  scuffle.  The  bouquet  of 
lilies  that  rested  on  her  bosom  was  crushed.  Her  lace  and 
swan's  down  trimmings  were  torn.  Her  hair  was  disheveled, 
her  face  pale,  and  her  eyes  streaming  with  tears. 

"Why  do  you  make  me  a  prisoner  ?"  she  sobbed. 

"I  told  you,  madam,  it  was  for  your  share  in  the  abduc- 
tion of — —^' 


204    Arrest  of  Lord  Vincent  and  Faustina. 

"Abduction !  abduction !  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by 
abduction!  I  did  not  kill  the  black  negro  person!  I  did  not 
put  her  into  the  sea !  It  was  Lord  Vincent !  I  never  helped 
him!  No,  not  at  all!  He  would  not  let  me!  And  if  he 
would,  I  should  not  have  done  it!  He  did  it  all  himself! 
And  it  is  cruel  to  make  a  poor,  small,  little  woman  suffer  for 
what  a  big  man  does !"  she  cried,  amid  piteous  tears  and  sobs. 

"Faustina  1  Faustina !  what  are  you  saying  ?"  exclaimed  the 
viscount,  in  consternation. 

"The  truth,  my  lord  viscount;  you  know  it!  The  truth, 
messieurs,  I  assure  you !  Lord  Vincent  killed  the  negro  wom- 
an and  threw  her  into  the  sea!  And  I  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it !  I  did  not  even  know  it  until  all  was  over !  And  I 
will  tell  you  all  about  it,  messieurs,  if  you  will  take  these 
dreadful  things  off  my  poor,  little,  small  wrists  and  let  me 
go!  It  is  cruel,  messieurs,  to  fetter  and  imprison  a  poor, 
email,  little  woman,  for  a  big  man's  crime !  Let  me  go  free, 
messieurs,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  him,"  pleaded  this 
weeping  creatm-e,  who  for  the  sake  of  her  own  liberty  was 
willing  to  give  ner  lover  up  to  death. 

But  you  need  not  be  surprised  at  this ;  for  I  told  you  long 
ago  that  there  can  be  no  honor,  faith  or  love  among  thieves, 
let  the  biographers  of  the  Jack  Sheppards  and  Nancy  Sykeses 
Bay  what  they  please  to  the  contrary.  "Do  men  gather  grapes 
of  thorns,  or  figs  of  thistles  ?"  The  criminal  is  the  most  soli- 
tary creature  upon  earth ;  he  has  no  ties — for  the  ties  of  guilt 
are  nothing ;  they  snap  at  the  lightest  breath  of  self-interest. 

Faustina's  plea  dismayed  her  accomplice  and  disgusted 
her  captor. 

"Madam,"  said  the  latter,  "you  had  better  hold  your  peace! 
Your  words  criminate  yourself  as  well  as  Lord  Vincent." 

"How  do  they  criminate  myself?  Oh,  mon  Dieu!  what 
shall  I  do,  since  even  my  denials  are  made  to  tell  against 
me !"  she  whimpered,  wringing  her  hands. 

"Faustina,  be  silent !"  said  the  viscount,  sternly. 

"My  lord,  we  are  ready  to  remove  you,"  said  McRae,  ad- 
vancing toward  the  viscount. 

"Where  do  you  intend  to  take  us,  then?"  demanded  the 
viscount,  with  a  blush  of  shame,  though  with  a  tone  of  de- 
fiance. 

"To  the  police  station-house  for  the  night.  In  the  morn- 
ing you  will  be  brought  before  the  magistrate  for  examina- 
tion." 

"To  your  beast  of  a  station-house?"  indignantly  exclaimed 
the  viscount. 

The  policeman  bowed. 

"Ah!  mon  Dieu!  will  he  take  us  out  in  the  snow  to-night? 
I  cannot  go !    I  should  freeze  to  death  I    I  should  perish  iu 


Arrest  of  Lord  Vincent  and  Fr  ustina.    205 

the  storm!  It  would  be  murder!"  cried  Faustina,  wringing 
her  hands. 

"You  see  it  would  be  barbarous  to  drag  a  lady  out  in  this 
horrible  weather !  Can  you  not  leave  her  here  for  the  night  ? 
And  if  you  consider  yourself  responsible  for  her  safe-keep- 
ing, can  you  not  remain  and  guard  her?"  inquired  his  lord- 
ship, speaking,  however,  quite  as  much,  or  even  more,  for 
himself  than  for  Faustina ;  for  he  was  well  aware  that  if  she 
were  left  he  would  also  be  left. 

"My  lord,  it  is  impossible.  I  could  not  be  answerable  for 
my  prisoner's  safety  if  she  were  permitted  to  remain  here  all 
night,  no  matter  how  well  guarded  she  might  be.  It  was  only 
a  few  weeks  ago  that  a  prisoner — a  young  girl  she  was, 
charged  with  poisoning — persuaded  me  to  hold  her  in  cus- 
tody through  the  night  in  her  own  chamber.  And  I  did  so, 
placing  a  policeman  on  guard  on  the  outside  of  each  door. 
And  yet,  during  the  night,  she  succeeded  in  making  her  es- 
cape down  a  secret  staircase,  and  through  a  subterranean 
passage,  and  got  clear  off!  It  was  in  just  such  an  ancient 
place  as  this,  my  lord.  I  came  near  losing  my  office  by  it; 
and  I  made  a  resolution  then,  never  to  trust  a  prisoner  of 
mine  out  of  my  sight  until  I  got  him  or  her,  as  the  case  might 
be,  safe  under  lock  and  key  in  my  station-house." 

"But,  mon  Dieu!  mon  Dieu!  what  will  be  become  of  me?" 
wailed  Faustina 

"It  will  kill  her!  She  is  very  tender!"  urged  Lord  Vin- 
cent. 

"Tour  lordship  may  order  your  own  close  carriage  for  her 
use.  She  may  wrap  up  in  all  her  furs !  And  though  she  may 
still  suffer  a  good  deal  from  the  long,  cold  ride,  she  will  not 
freeze,  I  assure  you,"  said  McRae. 

"Ah,  but  what  for  do  you  take  me  at  all?  I  say  I  did 
not  kill  the  black  negro  woman;  Lord  Vincent  did  it." 

"Madam,  neither  you  nor  my  lord  are  accused  of  murder," 
said  McRae. 

"Ah !  what,  then,  do  you  accuse  me  of  ?" 

"You  will  hear  at  the  magistrate's  office,  madam,"  said  the 
policeman,  losing  patience. 

"I  say,  what — whatever  it  was.  Lord  Vincent  did  it!" 

"Faustina,  be  silent!  If  no  remnant  of  good  faith  leada 
you  to  spare  me,  spare  yourself  at  least!"  said  the  viscount. 

"Will  you  order  your  carriage?"  said  McRae. 

"Cuthbert,  go  down  and  have  the  close  carriage  brought 
around.  Put  the  leopard  skins  inside  and  bottles  of  hot  wa- 
ter," ordered  the  viscount. 

"Madam,  you  had  better  summon  your  maid  and  have  your 
wrappings  brought  to  you,  and  anything  else  you  may  wish 
to  take  with  you,"  advised  McRae. 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu!  mon  Dieu!  must  I  leave  this  beautiful 


2o6  ,  Arrest  of  Lord  Vlucent  and  Faustina. 

place  to  go  to  a  horrid  prison!     Oh,  mon  Dieu!  men  Dieu!" 
wept  Faustina,  wringing  her  hands. 

"Shall  I  ring  for  your  maid?"  inquired  McRae. 

"No,  you  monster!"  shrieked  Faustina.  "Do  you  think  I 
want  Desiree,  whose  ears  I  boxed  this  morning,  come  here  to 
see  me  marched  oif  to  prison  ?  She  would  be  glad,  the  beast ! 
She  would  laugh  in  her  sleeve,  the  wretch!  Madame  Mac- 
Donald,  will  you  get  my  boniiet  and  sables?"  she  said,  turn- 
ing to  her  companion. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  suffering  angel,  I  will  do  all  that  you  wish 
me  to  do.  Ah !  you  remind  me  of  your  country-woman. 
Queen  Marie  Antoinette,  when  she  was  dragged  from  the 
luxurious  Tuilleries  to  the  dreary  Temple,"  whined  sympa- 
thizing complacency. 

"Grande  del!  woman,  do  not  speak  of  her!  She  was 
guillotined!"  cried  Faustina,  with  a  shiver  of  terror. 

"But  you  shall  not  be,  niy  dear;  you  shall  come  out  clear; 
and  they  who  have  accused  you  shall  be  made  ashamed !"  said 
Mrs.  MacDonald,  as  she  passed  into  Faustina's  dressing- 
room. 

Presently  she  came  forth,  bearing  a  quilted  silk  bonnet, 
a  velvet  sack,  a  sable  cloak,  a  muff  and  cuffs  and  warm 
gloves  and  fur-lined  boots,  and  what  not;  all  of  which  she 
helped  Faustina  to  put  on.  While  she  was  kneeling  on  the 
floor  and  putting  on  the  beauty's  boots,  she  said : 

"I  think  some  of  these  men  might  have  the  modesty  to  turn 
their  backs,  if  they  canna  leave  the  room.  Ah,  my  poor  dear ! 
now  you  remind  me  of  one  of  my  own  countrywomen,  poor 
Queen  Mary  Stuart,  when  she  complained  on  the  scaffold  of 
having  to  undress  before  so  many  men !  Now  you  have  to  , 
dress  before  so  many !" 

"Grande  Dieu!  you  will  be  the  death  of  me,  with  your 
guillotined  women!  You  turn  my  flesh  to  jelly,  and  ray 
bones  to  gristle,  and  my  heart  to  water!"  cried  Faustina, 
with  a  dreadful  shudder,  as  she  arose  to  her  feet,  quite  ready, 
as  far  as  dress  was  concerned,  for  her  journey. 

"Will  my  poor,  dear,  suffering  angel  have  anything  else?" 
said  Mrs.  MacDonald. 

"Yes.  Oh,  dear!  that  I  should  have  to  leave  this  sweet 
place  for  a  nasty  prison !  Yes,  you  may  get  together  all  that 
fruit  and  nuts  and  cake  and  wine,  and  don't  forget  the  bon- 
bons, and  have  them  put  in  the  carriage,  for  I  don't  believe  I 
could  get  such  things  in  the  horrid  prison.  And,  stay — 
put  me  a  white  wrapper  and  a  lace  cap  in  my  little  night- 
bag;  and,  stop — put  that  last  novel  of  Paul-du-Koch  in  also. 
I  will  be  as  comfortable  as  I  can  make  myself  in  that  beast 
of  a  place !" 

"Blessed  angel!  what  a  mind  you  have!  what  philosophy! 
whai  fortitude!     You  now  remind  m©  of  your  illustrious 


A  Bitter  Night.  207 

compatriot,  Madame  Roland,  who,  when  dragged  from  her 
elegant  home  to  the  dreadful  prison  of  the  Concierge,  and 
knowing  that  in  a  few  days  she  must  be  dragged  from  that  to 
the  scaifold;  yet  sent  for  her  books,  her  music,  her  birds  and 
her  flowers,  that  she  might  make  the  most  of  the  time  left," 
said  Mrs.  MacDonald,  as  she  zealously  gathered  up  the  de- 
sired articles. 

"Tout  les  Diables!  I  shall  dash  my  brains  out  if  you  speak 
to  me  of  another  headless  woman!"  shrieked  Faustina,  stop- 
ping both  her  ears. 

Old  Cuthbert  put  his  head  in  to  say  that  the  carriage  was 
ready. 

Lord  Vincent  ordered  him  to  load  himself  with  the  lux- 
uries that  had  been  provided  for  Faustina,  and  put  them 
into  the  carriage,  and  then  in  returning,  to  fetch  him  his 
overshoes,  cloak,  and  hat.  All  of  these  orders  wero  duly 
obeyed. 

When  all  was  ready.  Lord  Vincent  shook  hands  with  Mrs. 
MacDonald,  saying: 

"We  must  all  bow  to  the  law,  madam;  but  this  is  only  a 
passing  cloud.  We  shall  be  liberated  soon.  And  I  hope  we 
shall  find  you  here  when  we  return." 

"Ye  may  be  sure  of  that,  my  lord.  And  may  heaven  grant 
you  a  speedy  deliverance,"  she  answered. 

Faustina  next  came  up  to  bid  her  good-by. 

"Good-by !  Good-by !  my  sweet,  suffering  angel.  Bear  up 
under  your  afHictions;  fortify  your  mind  by  thinking  of  the 
martyred  queens  and  heroines  who  have  preceded  you,"  said 
Mrs.  MacDonald,  weeping  as  she  embraced  Faustina. 

"Graiide  Dieu!"  I  shall  think  of  none  of  them!  I  shall 
think  only  of  myself  and  my  deliverance!"  said  Faustina, 
breaking  from  her. 

They  went  down-stairs,  marshalled  by  the  policemen.  They 
entered  the  carriage,  two  policemen  riding  inside  with  them, 
and  one  on  the  box  beside  the  coachman.  And  thus  they 
commenced  their  stormy  night  journey. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A    BITTER    NIGHT. 

'A  freezing  night.  Faustina  shook  as  with  an  ague-fit,  and 
her  teeth  chattered  like  a  pair  of  castanets,  as  she  crouched 
down  in  one  corner  of  the  back  seat  and  huddled  all  her  wrap- 
pings close  about  her.  But  the  cold  still  seemed  to  penetrate 
through  all  her  furs  and  velvets  and  woollens,  and  enter  the 
yery  marrow  of  her  bones. 

J3esida   her   sat  the   viscount,   silent,   grim   and  still,  as 


2o8  A  Bitter  Night. 

though  he  "i  /ere  congealed  to  ice.  Before  her  sat  the  two  po- 
licemen, well  wrapped  up  in  their  heavy  great  coats  and  thick 
shawls. 

All  were  silent  except  Faustina.  She  shook  and  moaned 
and  chattered  incessantly.  Such  a  mere  animal  was  this 
wretched  woman  that  she  was  quite  absorbed  in  her  present 
sufferings.  While  enduring  this  intense  cold,  she  could  not 
look  forward  to  the  terrors  of  the  future. 

"Scelerate!"  she  exclaimed,  fiercely  stamping  her  feec,  "can 
you  not  make  this  beast  of  a  carriage  closer,  then.  My  flesh 
is  stone  and  my  blood  is  ice,  I  tell  you." 

One  window  had  been  left  open  a  little  way,  to  let  a  breath 
of  air  into  the  carriage,  which,  crowded  with  four  persons, 
was  otherwise  stifling. 

But  the  viscount  now  raised  both  his  fettered  hands  and 
closed  up  the  window. 

The  arrangement  did  not  prove  satisfactory.  It  deprived 
the  sufferers  of  air  without  making  them  any  warmer.  Faus- 
tina shook  and  moaned  and  chattered  all  the  same. 

^'Ah!  coquinaille!"  she  exclaimed,  in  furious  disgust;  "open 
the  window  again !  I  am  suffocated !  I  am  poisoned !  They 
have  all  been  eating  garlic  and  drinking  whisky!" 

The  window  was  opened  at  her  desire;  but  as  they  were 
then  crossing  the  narrow  isthmus  of  rock  that  connected  the 
castle  steep  with  the  land,  the  wind,  from  that  exposed  posi- 
tion, was  cutting  sharp,  and  drove  into  the  aperture  the 
stinging  snow,  which  entered  the  skin  like  needle's  points. 

"Ah,  shut  it,  shut  it!  it  kills  me!  It  is  infame  to  treat  a 
poor  little  lady  so!"  she  cried,  bursting  into  tears. 

Again  the  window  was  closed;  but  not  for  any  length  of 
time.  Apparently  she  could  neither  bear  it  open  nor  shut. 
So,  shaking,  moaning,  chattering  and  complaining,  the  poor 
creature  was  taken  through  that  long  and  bitter  night  journey 
which  ended  at  last  only  at  the  station-house  at  Banff. 

Half  dead  with  cold,  she  was  lifted  out  of  the  carriage  by 
the  two  policemen  who  stood  upon  the  sidewalk,  where  she 
remained,  shaking,  chattering  and  weeping  tears  that  froze 
upon  her  cheeks  as  they  fell. 

She  could  see  nothing  in  that  dark  street  but  the  gloomy 
building  before  her,  dimly  lighted  by  its  iron  lamp  above  tho 
doorway. 

There  she  remained  until  the  viscount  was  handed  out. 

"Cuthbert,"  said  his  lordship  to  the  old  man,  who  had  ex- 
posed himself  to  the  severe  weatfcer  of  this  night  and  driven 
the  carriage  for  the  sake  of  being  near  his  master  as  long  as 
possible — "Cuthbert,  take  the  carriage  around  to  the  'High- 
lander' and  put  up  there  for  the  night.  We  shnll  want  it  to 
take  us  back  to  the  castle  to-morrow,  after  this  ridicU^  us 
farce  i»  over." 


A  Bitter  Night.  209 

"Verra  weel,  me  laird,"  replied  old  Cuthbert,  touching  hig 
hat  with  all  the  more  deference  because  his  master  was  suf- 
fering degradation. 

"Ah!  is  it  so?  Will  we  really  go  back  to  the  castle  to- 
morrow?" v.'himpered  Faustina,  shaking,  chattering  and 
wringing  her  hands. 

"Of  course  we  will,"  replied  his  lordship. 

"Ah,  but  how  shall  I  get  through  the  night  ?  I  must  have  a 
good  fire  and  a  comfortable  bed,  and  something  warm  to 
drink.  Will  you  see  to  it,  Malcolm?"  she  whiningly  in- 
quired. 

"Don't  be  a  fool !"  was  the  gentlemanly  reply ;  for  the  vis- 
count burned  with  a  half -suppressed  rage  against  the  woman 
whose  fatal  beauty  had  led  him  into  all  this  disgrace. 

She  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

"That  is  the  reward  I  get  for  all  my  love !"  she  exclaimed. 
.  "Faustina  1  for  your  oivn  sake,  if  not  for  any  other's,  ex- 
ercise some  discretion !"  exclaimed  the  viscount,  angrily. 

"Scelerat!"  she  screamed,  in  fury,  "I  had  no  discretion 
when  I  listened  to  you !" 

"I  wish  to  heaven  you  had  had  then!  I  should  nob  have 
been  in  this  mess!"  he  replied. 

"Ah  \"  she  hissed.  "If  my  hands  were  not  fettered,  I  would 
tear  your  eyes!" 

"Sweet  angel!"  sneered  the  viscount,  in  mockery  and  self- 
jnockery. 

"Thsche!"  she  hissed,  "let  me  at  him!" 

The  viscount  laughed,  a  hard,  bitter,  scornful  laugh. 

And  at  it  they  went,  criminating  and  recriminating,  until 
the  empty  carriage  was  driven  away,  and  the  policemen  took 
them  by  the  shoulders  and  pushed  them  into  the  station- 
house. 

They  found  themselves  in  a  large  stone  hall,  with  iron- 
grated  windows.  It  was  partially  warmed  with  a  large,  rusty 
stove,  around  which  many  men  of  the  roughest  cast  were 
gathered,  smoking,  talking,  and  laughing.  The  walls  were 
furnished  with  rude  benches,  upon  which  some  men  sat, 
some  reclined,  and  some  lay  at  full  length.  The  stone  floor 
was  wet  with  the  slop  of  the  snow  that  had  been  brought  in 
by  so  many  feet  and  melted.  In  one  of  these  slops  lay  a 
woman,  dead  drunk. 

"Ah!  Grande  Dieu!  I  cannot  stay  here!"  cried  Faustina, 
gathering  up  her  skirts,  as  well  as  she  could  with  her  fettered 
hands,  and  looking  around  in  strong  disgust. 

The  viscount  laughed  in  derision ;  he  was  angry,  desperate, 
and  he  rejoiced  in  her  discomfiture. 

"Eh,  Saunders!  take  these  two  women  in  the  women's 
room!"  said  McRae,  beckoning  a  tall,  broad-shouldered, 
l«d-headed  Scot  to  his  assistance. 


2IO  A  Bitter  Niglit. 

"Hech!  it  will  take  twa  o'  the  strangest  men  here  to  lift 
yon  lassie,"  replied  the  man,  lumbering  slowly  along  toward 
the  prostrate  woman,  and  trying  to  raise  her.  If  ho  failed  in 
lifting  her,  he  succeeded  in  waking  her,  and  he  was  saluted 
for  his  pains  with  a  volley  of  curses,  to  which  he  replied 
with  a  shake  or  two. 

"Quel  horreur!  I  will  not  stay  here!"  cried  Faustina, 
stamping  with  rage. 

"Attend  to  her,  Christie.  Dunlap,  help  Saunders  to  remove 
that  woman,"  said  McRae. 

Two  of  the  policemen  succeeded  in  raising  the  fallen 
woman,  and  leading  her  between  them  into  an  adjoining 
room.  The  man  addressed  as  "Christie"  would  have  taken 
Faustina  by  the  arm,  and  led  her  after  them,  but  that  she 
fiercely  shook  herself  from  his  grasp. 

"Follow  then  and  ye  like,  lass;  but  gae  some  gait  ye  maun, 
ye  ken,"  said  the  man,  good-naturedly. 

She  glanced  around  the  dreary  room,  upon  the  grated  win- 
dows, the  sloppy  floor,  the  rusty  stove,  and  the  wretched  men, 
and  finally  seemed  to  think  that  she  could  not  do  better  than 
to  leave  such  a  repulsive  scene. 

"Go  along,  then,  and  I  will  follow,  only  keep  your  vile 
hands  off  me!"  said  Faustina,  gathering  up  her  dainty  rai- 
ment, and  stepping  carefully  after  her  leader.  As  she  did  so, 
she  turned  a  last  look  upon  Lord  Vincent.  The  viscount  had 
thrown  himself  upon  a  corner  of  one  of  the  benches,  where 
he  sat,  with  his  fetteVed  hands  folded  together,  and  his  head 
bent  down  upon  his  breast,  as  if  he  were  in  deep  despair. 

"ImheciUe!"  was  the  complimentary  good-night,  thrown 
by  his  angel,  as  she  passed  out  of  the  hall  into  the  adjoining 
room.  This — the  women's  room — was  in  all  respects  similar 
to  the  men's  hall,  being  furnished  with  the  like  grated  win- 
dows, rusty  iron  stove,  and  rude  benches.  Along,  on  these 
benches,  on  the  floor,  were  scattered  wretched  women  in  every 
attitude  of  self-abandonment;  some  in  the  stupor  of  intoxi- 
cation; some  in  the  depths  of  sorrow;  some  in  stony  despair; 
some  in  reckless  defiance. 

The  men  who  had  come  in  with  the  drunken  woman  de- 
posited her  on  one  of  the  benches,  from  which  she  quickly 
rolled  to  the  floor,  where  she  lay  dead  to  all  that  was  passing 
around  her.  Her  misfortune  was  greeted  with  a  shout  of 
laughter  from  the  reckless  denizens  of  this  room;  but  that 
shout  was  turned  into  a  deafening  yell  when  their  eyes  fell 
upon  Faustina's  array. 

"Eh,  sirs!  wha'  the  deil  hae  we  here  fra  the  ball?"  they 
cried,  gathering  around  her  with  curiosity. 

"OflF,  you  wretches!"  screamed  Faustina,  stamping  at  them. 

"Hech !  but  she  hae  a  t'^mper  o'  her  ain,  the  quean,"  said 

CUB. 


A  Bitter  Night.  2ii 

"Ou,  ay,  just!  It  will  be  for  sticking  her  lad  under  the 
ribs  she  is  here,"  surmised  another. 

"Eh,  sirs,  how  are  the  mighty  fa'en!"  exclaimed  a  third, 
as  they  closed  around  her,  and  began  to  examine  her  rich 
dress. 

"Coquinaille!  how  dare  you?"  screamed  Faustina,  fiercely 
twitching  herself  away  from  them. 

"Eh!  the  braw  furs  axid  silks!  the  town  doesna  often  see 
the  loike  o'  them,"  said  the  first  speaker,  lifting  up  the  cor- 
ner of  the  rich  sable  cloak. 

"Scelerat!  let  alone!"  shrieked  Faustina,  stamping  fran- 
tically. 

The  uproar  brought  Policeman  Christie  to  the  scene. 

"Take  me  away  from  this  place  directly,  you  beast !  How 
dare  you  bring  me  among  such  wretches  ?"  screamed  the  poor 
creature. 

"My  lass,  I  hae  na  commission  to  remove  you.  I  dinna 
ken  what  ye  hae  done  to  bring  yourseF  here;  but  here  ye 
maun  bide  till  the  morn,"  said  Christie,  kindly  and  com- 
posedly. 

"I  will  not,  I  say !  What  have  I  done  to  b©  placed  among 
these  vile  wretches  ?"  she  persisted,  stamping. 

"I  dinna  ken,  lassie,  as  I  telled  ye  before;  but  joodging  by 
your  manners,  I  suld  say  ye  hae  girded  yoursel'  an  unco'  ill 
gate.  But  howe'er  that  will  be,  here  ye  maun  bide  till  the 
morn.  And  gin  ye  will  heed  guid  counsel,  ye'll  haud  your 
tongue,"  said  Christie,  at  the  same  time  good-naturedly  set- 
ting down  the  hamper  that  contained  Faustina's  luxuries. 
She  did  not  want  it.  She  threw  herself  down  on  on©  of  the 
benches  and  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

The  women  gathered  around  the  hamper,  and  quickly  tore 
off  the  lid  and  made  themselves  acquainted  with  its  contents. 

But  Faustina  did  not  mind.  She  was  too  deeply  distressed 
to  care  what  they  did.  The  contents  of  the  hamper  were 
now  of  no  use  to  her.  The  "good  fire,  the  comfortable  bed, 
and  the  warm  beverage,"  that  she  had  vehemently  demanded, 
were  unattainable  she  knew,  and  she  cared  for  nothing  else 
sow. 

While  Faustina,  regardless  that  her  famished  fellow  pris- 
oners were  devouring  her  cakes,  fruits  and  wine,  gave  herself 
up  to  passionate  lamentations,  another  scene  was  going  on  in 
the  men's  hall. 

Lord  Vincent  sat  gnawing  his  nails  and  "glowering" -upon 
the  floor  in  his  corner.  From  time  to  time  the  door  opened, 
letting  in  a  gust  of  wind,  sleet,  and  snow,  and  a  new  ^arty 
of  prisoners;  but  the  viscount  never  lifted  his  eyes  to  observe 
them. 

At  length,  however,  he  looked  up  and  beckoned  Constable 
M.cRsL&  to  his  side. 
Xi 


212  A  Bitter  Nigtt. 

"Here,  you,  fellow!  I  would  like  to  see  your  warrant 
again.    I  wish  to  know  who  is  my  accuser." 

"Judge  Kandolph  Merlin,  my  lord,  of  the  United  States 
Supreme  Court,"  answered  McRae,  once  more  taking  out  his 
warrant  and  submitting  it  to  the  inspection  of  his  prisoner. 

"Ila,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  viscount,  affectedly.  "Randolph 
Merlin !  He  has  come  to  the  country,  I  suppose,  to  look 
after  his  daughter !  and  finding  that  these  negroes  are  among 
the  missing,  has  pretended  to  get  up  the  charge  against  me! 
It  will  not  answer  his  purpose,  however.  And  I  only  wonder 
that  any  magistrate  in  his  senses  should  have  issued  a  war- 
rant for  the  apprehension  of  a  nobleman  upon  his  unsup- 
ported charge !" 

"Pray,  excuse  me,  my  lord,  but  the  charge  was  not  unsup- 
ported," said  McRae,  respectfully. 

"How  ?  not  unsupported  ?" 

"No,  my  lord.  The  judge  had  for  witnesses  the  three 
negroes,  and " 

"The  three  negroes!"  exclaimed  the  viscount,  recoiling  in 
amazement;  but  quickly  recovering  his  presence  of  mind,  he 
added :  "Oh !  ay !  of  course !  *they  ran  off  with  my  plate,  and  I 
suppose  they  have  succeeded  in  effectually  secreting  it  and 
eluding  discovery.  And  now  I  suspect  they  have  been  looked 
up  by  their  old  master  and  persuaded  to  appear  as  false  wit- 
nesses against  me !  Ha,  ha,  ha !  what  a  weak  device !  I  am 
amazed  that  any  magistrate  should  have  ventured  upon  such 
testimony  to  have  issued  a  warrant  for  my  apprehension !" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  lord;  but  theirs  was  not  the  only 
testimony!  There  were  several  gentlemen  present,  fellow- 
voyagers  of  Judge  Merlin,  who  testified  to  the  finding  of  the 
negroes  in  a  state  of  slavery  in  Cuba;  their  testimony  cor- 
roborates that  of  the  negroes,"  said  McRae. 

Lord  Vincent  went  pale  as  death. 

"What  does  that  mean?  Oh,  I  see!  it  is  all  a  conspiracy," 
he  said,  with  an  ineffectual  effort  at  derision. 

But  at  that  moment  there  was  a  bustle  outside;  the  door 
was  thrown  open,  and  another  prisoner  was  brought  in  by 
two  policemen. 

"What  is  the  matter?  Who  is  it  now?"  inquired  McRae, 
going  forward. 

"We  have  got  him,  sir !"  said  a  constable. 

"Who?"  demanded  McRae. 

"The  murderer,  sir !"  answered  the  policeman,  at  the  same 
moment  dragging  into  view  the  assassin  of  Ailsie  Dunbar, 
the  ex-valet  of  Lord  Vincent,  Alick  Frisbie. 

Heavily  fettered,  his  knees  knocking  together,  pale  aiu^ 
trembling,  the  wi*etch  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  flooa 

"Where  did  you  take  him?"  inquired  McRao, 


A  Bitter  NigHt.  213 

"Xt  the  'Bagpipes,'  Peterhead !"  replied  the  successful  cap- 
tor. - 

"Pray,  upon  what  charge  is  he  arrested?"  inquired  the 
viscount,  in  a  shaking  voice,  that  he  in  vain  tried  to  make 
steady. 

''A  trifle  of  murder,  among  other  fancy  performances," 
said  McRae. 

At  this  moment  Frisbie  caught  sight  of  his  master  and  set 
up  a  howl,  through  which  his  words  were  barely  audible: 

"Oh,  my  lord  I  you  will  never  betray  me !  You  will  never 
be  a  witness  against  me!  You  will  never  hang  me!  You 
promised  that  jou  would  not !" 

"Hold  your  tofigue,  you  abominable  fool!  what  the  fiend 
are  you  talking  about  ?  Do  you  forget  yourself,  sir  ?"  roared 
the  viscount,  furious  at  the  fatal  folly  of  his  weak  accom- 
plice. 

"Oh,  no,  my  lord,  I  do  not  forget  myself!  I  do  not  for- 
get anything.  I  beg  your  lordship's  pardon  for  speaking, 
and  I  will  swear  to  be  as  silent  as  the  grave,  if  your  lordship 
will  only  promise  not  to " 

"Will  you  stop  short  where  you  are,  and  not  open  your 
mouth  again,  you  insufferable  idiot !"  thundered  the  viscount. 

Frisbie  gulped  his  last  words,  whined  and  crouched  like  a 
whipped  hound,  and  subsided  into  silence. 

And  soon  after  this  McRae  and  the  other  officers  who 
were  off  duty  for  the  remainder  of  the  night  went  home  and 
the  doors  were  closed. 

A  miserable  night  it  was  to  all  within  the  station  liouse, 
and  especially  to  that  guilty  man  and  woman  who  had  been 
torn  from  their  luxurious  home  and  confined  in  this  dreary 
prison.  All  that  could  revolt,  disgust  and  utterly  depress 
human  nature  seemed  gathered  within  its  walls.  Here  was 
drunkenness,  deadly  sickness,  and  reckless  and  shameless 
profanity,  all  of  the  most  loathsome  character.  And  all  this 
was  excruciating  torture  to  a  man  like  Lord  Vincent,  who, 
if  he  was  not  refined,  was  at  least  excessively  fastidious. 
There  was  no  rest;  every  few  minutes  the  door  was  opened 
to  receive  some  new  prisoner,  some  inebriate,  or  some  night- 
brawler  picked  up  by  the  watch,  and  brought  in,  and  then 
would  ensue  another  scene  of  confusion. 

An  endless  night  it  seemed,  yet  it  came  to  an  end  at  last. 

The  morning  slowly  dawned.  The  pale,  cold,  gray  light 
of  the  winter  day  looked  sadly  through  the  falling  snow  into 
the  closely-grated,  dusty  windows.  And  upon  what  a  scene 
it  looked !  Men  were  there,  scattered  over  the  floor  and  upon 
the  benches  in  every  stage  of  intoxication ;  some  stupid,  some 
reckless,  some  despairing;  some  sound  asleep;  some  waking 
vip  and  yawning,  and  some  walking  about  impatiently. 

As  the  day  broadened  and  the  hour  arrived  for  the  sitting- 


214  A  Bitter  Night. 

of  the  police  magistrate,  the  policemen  came  In  and  marched 
ofE  the  crowd  of  culprits  to  a  hall  in  another  part  of  the  build* 
ing  where  they  were  to  be  examined.  Even  the  women  were 
inarched  out  from  the  inner  room  after  the  men.  It  seemed 
that  all  the  lighter  offenders  were  to  be  disposed  of  first. 

Lord  Vincent  and  Frisbie  were  left  alone  in  charge  of  one 
officer. 

"When  are  we  to  be  examined?"  demanded  the  viscount 
haughtily  of  this  man. 

"I  dinna  ken !"  he  answered,  composedly  lighting  his  pipe 
and  smoking  away. 

Lord  Vincent  paced  up  and  down  the  wet  and  dirty  stone 
floor,  until  at  length  the  door  opened  and  McRae,  the  officer 
who  had  arrested  him,  entered. 

"Ah,  you  have  come  at  last!  I  wish  to  be  informed  why 
we  have  been  left  here  all  this  time?  Every  one  else  has 
been  removed,"  exclaimed  the  viscount. 

"My  lord,  those  poor  creatures  who  were  brought  here  dur- 
ing the  night  were  not  arrested  for  any  grave  oifense.  Some 
were  brought  in  only  to  keep  them  from  perishing,  in  the 
snow-storm,  and  others  for  drunkenness  or  disorder.  The  sit- 
ting police  magistrate  disposes  of  them.  They  will  mostly 
be  discharged.  But  you,  my  lord,  are  here  upon  a  heavy 
charge,  and  you  are  to  go  before  Sir  Alexander  McKetchum." 

"Why,  then,  do  jon  not  conduct  me  there?  Do  you  mean 
to  keep  me  in  this  beastly  place  all  day  ?" 

"My  lord,  your  examination  is  fixed  for  ten  o'clock;  it  is 
only  nine  now,"  said  McRae,  passing  on  to  the  inner  room, 
from  which  he  presently  appeared  with  Faustina. 

Wretchedly  did  the  poor  creature  look,  with  her  pale  and 
tear-stained  face,  her  reddened  eyes  and  disheveled  hair; 
and  her  rich  and  delicate  white  evening  dress  with  its  ample 
skirts  and  lace  flounces  be-draggled  and  be-dabbled  with  all 
the  filth  of  the  station-house. 

"I  have  had  a  horrid  night!  I  have  been  in  worse  than 
purgatory !  I  have  not  closed  my  eyes !  I  wish  I  was  dead ! 
See  what  you  have  brought  me  to,  Malcolm!  And — only 
look  at  my  dress!"  sobbed  the  woman. 

"Your  dress!  That  is  just  exactly  what  I  am  looking  at. 
A  pretty  dress  that  to  be  seen  in.  What  the  demon  do  you 
think  people  will  take  you  for?"  sneered  his  lordship. 

"I  do  not  know !  I  do  not  care !  poor  trampled  lily  that  I 
am!" 

"Poor  trampled  fool!  why  didn't  you  change  that  Merry 
'Andrew  costiune  for  something  plainer  and  decenter  before 
you  left  the  castle?" 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  to  do  it,  then?  I  never  thouj^lit 
of  it.    Besides,  I  didn't  know  what  this  beast  of  a  station- 


A  Bitter  Niglit.  815 

house  was  like.  No  carpets,  no  beds,  no  servants.  And  I 
dying  for  want  of  them  all.  And  now  I  must  have  my 
breakfast.  Why  don't  you  order  it,  Malcolm?"  she  whim- 
pered. 

"I  am  afraid  they  do  not  provide  breakfasts  any  more 
than  they  do  other  luxuries  for  the  guests  of  this  establish- 
ment," replied  the  viscount,  with  a  malignant  laugh. 

"But  I  shall  starve,  then,"  said  the  poor  little  animal,  burst- 
ing into  tears. 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  replied  the  viscount,  very  much  in  the 
same  tone  as  if  he  had  said:  "I  do  not  care." 

But  here  McRae  spoke: 

"My  lord,  there  is  nearly  an  hour  left  before  we  shall  be 
before  the  magistrate.  If  you  wish,  therefore,  you  caa  send 
out  to  some  hotel  and  order  your  breakfast  brought  to  you 
here." 

"Thank  you;  I  will  avail  myself  of  your  suggestion. 
Whom  can  I  send?"  inquired  the  viscount. 

"Christie,  jou  can  go  for  his  lordship,"  said  McRae  to 
his  subordinate,  who  had  just  entered  the  hall. 

Christie  came  forward  to  take  the  order. 

"What  will  you  have?"  inquired  Lord  Vincent,  curtly  ad- 
dressing his  "sweet  angel." 

"Oh,  some  strong  coffee  with  cream,  hot  rolls  with  fresh 
butter,  and  broiled  moor  hen  with  currant  jelly,"  replied 
Paustina. 

Lord  Vincent  wrote  his  order  down  with  a  pencil  on  a 
leaf  of  his  tablets,  tore  it  out  and  erave  it  to  Christie, 
saying : 

"Take  this  to  the  'Highlander*  and  tell  them  to  send  the 
breakfast  immediately.  Also  inquire  for  my  servant,  Outh- 
bert  Allan,  who  is  stopping  there,  and  order  him  to  get  my 
horses  to  the  carriage  and  bring  them  around  hexe  for  my 
use." 

The  man  bowed  civilly  and  went  out  to  do  this  errand. 

In  about  half  an  hour  he  returned,  accompanied  by  a 
waiter  from  the  "Highlander,"  bringing  the  breakfast  piled 
up  on  a  large  tray  and  covered  with  a  folded  table  cloth.  He 
set  down  the  tray,  unfolded  the  cloth  and  spread  it  upon 
one  of  the  benches  and  arranged  the  breakfast  upon  it. 

"Did  you  see  my  servant?"  inquired  Lord  Vincent  of  hia 
messenger. 

"Yes,  me  laird,  and  gi'e  him  your  order.  The  carriage 
will  be  round,"  replied  the  man. 

As  the  viscount  and  his  companion  drew  their  bench  up 
to  the  other  bench  upon  which  their  morning  meal  was  laid, 
Mr.  Frisbie,  who  had  been  sitting  in  a  remote  corner  of  the 
ball  with  hi*  laeai^  buried  ":    his  knees,  got  up  and  hvmblx 


*i6  A  Bitter  Night. 

stood  before  them,  as  if  silently  offering  his  services  to  wait 
at  table. 

"He  here!"  exclaimed  Faustina,  in  amazement. 

"Ye.s,  he  is  in  the  same  boat  with  us.  Go  sit  down,  TTrisbie! 
we  don't  need  you,"  said  Lord  Vincent.  And  the  ex-valet 
retired  and  crouched  in  his  corner  like  a  repulsed  dog. 

Trouble  did  not  take  away  the  appetite  of  Mrs.  L)ugald. 
It  does  not  ever  have  that  effect  upon  constitutions  in  which 
the  animal  nature  largely  predominates.  She  ate,  drank 
and  wept,  and  so  got  through  a  very  hearty  repast.  Lord 
Vincent,  having  swallowed  a  single  cup  of  coffee,  which 
constituted  the  whole  of  his  breakfast,  sat  and  watched  her 
performances  with  unconcealed  scorn. 

Before  Faustina  got  through  officer  McRae  began  impa- 
tiently to  consult  his  large  silver  turnip. 

"It  is  time  to  go,"  he  said  at  length. 

But  Faustina  continued  to  suck  the  bones  of  the  moor 
hen,  between  her  trickling  tears. 

"We  must  not  keep  the  magistrate  waiting,"  said  McRae. 

But  Faustina  continued  to  sulk  and  cry. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hurry  you,  madam;  but  we  must  go,"  said 
McRae,  decisively. 

"Ah,  bah!  what  a  beastly  place,  where  a  poor  little  lady 
is  not  permitted  to  eat  her  breakfast  in  peace!"  she  ex- 
claimed, throwing  down  the  delicate  bone  at  which  she  had 
been  nibbling,  and  fiercely  starting  up. 

As  she  had  not  removed  her  bonnet  and  cloak  during  the 
whole  night  she  was  quite  ready. 

As  they  were  going  out  Lord  Vincent  pointed  to  Frisbie 
and  inquired: 

"Is  not  that  fellow  to  go?" 

"No;  he  is  in  upon  a  heavier  charge,  you  know,  my  lord. 
Your  examination  precedes  his,"  said  McRae,  as  he  con« 
ducted  his  prisoners  into  the  street,  leaving  Mr.  Frisbie  to 
solace  himself  with  the  remnants  of  Faustina's  breakfast, 
guarded  by  Christie. 

The  viscount's  carriage  was  drawn  up  before  the  door. 

"Is  it  hame,  my  laird?"  inquired  old  Cuthbert,  touching 
his  hat,  from  the  coachman's  box. 

"Xo!  You  are  to  take  your  directions  from  this  person," 
replied  his  lordship,  sullenly,  as  he  hurried  into  the  carriage 
to  conceal  himself  and  his  fettered  wrists  from  the  passers- 
by. 

McRae  put  Mrs.  Dugald  into  the  carriage,  and  then 
jumped  up  and  seated  himself  on  the  box  beside  the  coach- 
man, and  directed  him  where  to  drive. 

The  snow  was  still  falling  fast,  and  the  streets  were  nearly 
blocked  UP 


Fruits  of  Crime.  217 


CHAPTER  XXXL 

VBUITS     OF     CRIME. 

After  a  drive  of  about  twenty  minutes  through  the  narrow 
Streets,  the  carriage  stopped  before  the  town  hall. 

McRae  jumped  down  from  the  box  and  assisted  his  pris- 
oners to  alight. 

"Will  I  wait,  me  laird?"  inquired  old  Cuthbert,  in  a  de- 
sponding tone. 

"Certainly,  you  old  blockhead,"  was  the  courteous  reply  of 
the  viscount,  as  he  followed  his  conductor  into  the  building. 

McRae,  who  had  Mrs.  Dugald  on  his  arm,  led  the  way 
through  a  broad  stone  passage,  blocked  up  with  the  usual 
motley  crowd  of  such  a  place,  into  an  ante-room,  half  filled 
with  prisoners,  guarded  by  policemen,  and  waiting  their  turn 
for  examination,  and  thence  into  an  inner  room,  where,  in  a 
railed-off  compartment  at  the  upper  end,  and  behind  a  long 
table,  sat  the  magistrate.  Sir  Alexander  McKetchum,  and  his 
clerk,  attended  by  several  law-officers. 

"Here  are  the  prisoners,  your  worship,"  said  McRae,  ad- 
vancing with  his  charge  to  the  front  of  the  table. 

Sir  Alexander  looked  up.  He  was  a  tall,  raw-boned,  sinewy 
old  Gael,  with  high  features,  a  lively,  red  face,  blue  eyes, 
white  hair,  and  side  whiskers,  and  an  accent  as  broad  as 
Cuthbert's  own.    He  was  apparently  a  man  of  the  people. 

"Malcolm,  lad,  I  am  verra  sorry  to  see  your  father's  son 
here  on  such  a  charge,"  he  said. 

"I  am  here  by  your  warrant,  sir!  it  is  altogether  a  very 
extraordinary  proceeding!"  said  the  viscount,  haughtily. 

"Not  mare  extraordinary  than  painful,  lad!"  said  the 
magistrate. 

"Who  are  my  accusers,  sir?"  demanded  the  viscount,  as  if 
he  was  in  ignorance  of  them. 

"Ye  sail  sune  see,  me  laird!  Johnstone,  have  the  wit- 
nesses in  this  case  arrived?"  he  inquired,  turning  to  one  of 
his  officers. 

"Yes,  your  worship." 

"Then  bring  them  in." 

Johnstone  departed  on  his  errand;  and  the  magistrate 
turned  his  eyes  on  the  prisoners  before  him. 

"Eh,  it  is  a  bonnie  lassie,  to  be  here  on  such  a  charge !"  he 
muttered  to  himself,  as  he  looked  at  Faustina,  standing, 
trembling  and  weeping,  before  him.  Then  beckoning  the 
officer  who  had  the  prisoners  in  charge : 

**5IcRa§,  mon,  accommQdate  the  lady  with  a  chair.    Whj^ 


2i8  Fruits  of  Crime. 

did  ye  put  fetters  on  her?  Surely  there  was  no  need  of 
them." 

"There  was  need,  your  worship!  The  'lady'  resisted  the 
warrant,  and  fought  like  a  Bess  o'  Bedlam,"  said  McRae, 
as  he  set  a  chair  for  Faustina. 

"Puir  bairn!  puir,  ill-guided  bairn!"  muttered  the  old  man 
between  his  teeth.  But  before  he  could  utter  another  word, 
Johnstone  re-entered  the  room,  ushering  in  Judge  Merlin, 
Ishmael  Worth,  and  the  three  negroes. 

"Grande  del!"  exclaimed  Faustina,  in  horror,  as  her  eyes 
met  those  of  Katie — "It  is  the  ghost  of  the  black  negro 
woman  raised  from  the  dead!" 

Katie  heard  this  low  exclamation,  and  replied  to  it  by  such 
grotesque  and  awful  grimaces  as  only  the  face  of  the  African 
negro  is  capable  of  executing, 

"No,  it  is  herself!  There  are  no  such  things  as  ghosts t 
It  is  herself,  and  I  have  been  deceived!"  muttered  Faustina 
to  herself.    And  then  she  fell  into  silence. 

Perhaps  Lord  Vincent  had  not  altogether  credited  McRae's 
statement,  made  to  him  at  the  station-house,  for  certainly 
his  eyes  opened  with  consternation  on  seeing  this  party  enter 
the  room. 

Johnstone  marshaled  them  to  their  appointed  places  at 
the  right  hand  of  the  magistrate. 

On  turning  around  Iskmael  met  full  the  eyes  of  the  vi8» 
count.  Ishmael  gravely  bowed  and  averted  his  head.  Ho 
could  not  be  otherwise  than  courteous  under  any  circum- 
stances; and  he  could  not  bear  to  look  upon  a  fellowman 
in  his  degradation,  no  matter  how  well  that  degradation  was 
deserved. 

Judge  Merlin  also  bowed,  as  he  looked  upon  his  worthless 
eon-in-law;  but  the  judge's  bow  was  full  of  irony  as  hia 
face  was  full  of  scorn. 

The  magistrate  looked  up  from  the  document  he  was  read- 
ing and  acknowledged  tlie  presence  of  the  new  arrivals  with 
«  bow.    Then  turning  to  the  prisoner,  he  said : 

'Tklalcolm,  lad,  this  is  an  unco  ill-looking  accusation  they 
hae  brought  against  you;  kidnapping  and  slave -trading,  na 
less !  a  sort  of  piracy,  ye  ken,  lad  1  What  hae  ye  to  say  till 
it?" 

"What  have  I  to  say  to  it,  air  ?  Why,  simply  that  it  has 
taken  me  so  by  surprise  that  I  can  find  nothing  to  say 
but  that  1  am  astonished  at  the  effrontery  of  any  man  who 
could  bring  such  a  charge  against  me,  and  at  the  fatuity, 
if  you  will  excuse  my  terming  it  so,  of  any  magistrate  who 
could  issue  a  warrant  against  me  upon  such  a  charge!"  said 
the  viscount,  haughtily. 

*'^a^.  VM^,  ladl  na^y,  nay  I    I  had  guid  ground  for  wh«t  X 


Fruits  of  Crime.  219 

did,  as  ye  shall  hear  presently,  and  noo,  gin  ye  hae  na  objec- 
tion we  will  proceed  wi'  the  investigation ■" 

"But  I  have  an  objection,  sir !  I  tell  you  this  has  taken  me 
utterly  by  surprise !  I  am  totally  unprepared  for  it  1  I  must 
have  time,  I  must  have  counsel !"  said  the  viscount  with  much 
heat. 

"Then  I  maun  remand  ye  for  another  examination,"  replied 
Sir  Alexander  McKetchimi,  coolly. 

"But  I  object  to  that,  also!  I  object  to  being  kept  in 
confinement  while  there  is  nothing  proved  against  me,  and  I 
demand  my  liberty,"  said  the  viscount,  insolently. 

"Why  dinna  ye  demaund  the  moon  and  stars,  laddie?  I 
could  gie  them  to  ye  just  as  sune,"  replied  Sir  Alexander. 

"You  have  no  right  to  detain  me  in  custody !"  fiercely  broke 
forth  Lord  Vincent. 

"Whisht,  lad,  I  hae  no  richt  to  set  you  at  leeberty." 

Here  old  Katie,  whose  eyes  had  been  snapping  whole  vol- 
leys of  vindictive  fire  upon  the  prisoners,  broke  out  into  words 
before  Judge  Merlin  could  possibly  prevent  her. 

"Don't  you  let  him  go,  ole  marse!  he's  one  nasty,  'ceitful 
lyin'  white  nigger  as  ebber  libbed!  He  did  do  it,  and  he 
needn't  'ny  it,  not  while  I'm  standitv'  here!  Don't  you  let 
him  go,  ole  marse!  he's  cunnin'  as  de  debbil,  and  he'd  run 
away,  sure  as  ebber  you's  born !  You  take  my  'vice  and  don't 
you  let  him  go!  he  artful  as  ole  Sam!" 

"Katie,  Katie,  Katie,"  remonstrated  Ishm'ael,  in  a  low 
yoice. 

"So  he  is,  den!  and  he  know  it  himse'f,  too!  Yes,  you 
»s,  you  grand  vilyun !  Ah,  ha !  'member  how  you  stood  dere 
cussin'  and  swearin'  and  callin'  names,  and  sassin'  at  me, 
hard  as  ebber  you  could!  Oh,  ho!  I  telled  you  den  how  it 
was  goin'  to  be !  You  didn't  beliebe  me,  didn't  you  ?  Berry 
well,  den !    'Now  you  see !  now  it's  my  turn !" 

"Katie,  be  silent !"  ordered  Judge  Merlin  in  a  low  tone. 

"Yes,  marse,  yes,  chile,  I  gwine  be  silent  arter  I  done  ease 
jny  mind  speaking — Umph,  humph  I"  she  said,  turning  again 
to  the  unhappy  prisoner.  "Umph,  humph!  thought  you  and 
dat  whited  salt-petre  was  gwine  gobern  de  world  all  your 
own  way,  didn't  you  ?  Heave  me  down  in  de  wault  to  sleep 
long  o'  de  rats,  didn't  you  ?  Ah,  ha !  where  you  sleep  las* 
night?  and  where  you  gwine  sleep  to-night?  Not  in  your 
feathery  bed,  dat's  sartaini  Send  me  'cross  he  seas,  to  lib 
'long  ob  de  barbariums  in  de  Stingy  Islands,  didn't  you? 
Oh,  ho!  where  you  gwine  be  sent  'cross  de  seas?  Not  on 
a  party  ob  pleasure,  dat  sartain,  too!  Ebber  hear  tell  ob 
Bottommy  Bay,  eh  ?    Dere  where  you  gwine.    Tell  you  good." 

Here  Sir  Alexander,  who  had  been  gazing  in  speechless 
astonishment  upon  what  seemed  to  him  to  be  an  incompre- 
beasible  phenomenonj  recovered  himself,  found  his  "voice,  and 


220  '     Fruits  of  Crime. 

said  to  Judge  Merlin,  very  much  as  though  he  were  speak- 
ing of  some  half -tamed  wild  animal: 

"Keep  that  creature  quiet  or  she  must  be  removed." 

"Katie,"  said  Ishmael,  gently,  "you  would  not  like  to  be 
taken  from  the  court-room,  would  you?" 

"No !  'cause  I  don't  want  to  be  parted  from  my  lordship.  I 
lubs  him  so  well!"  replied  Katie,  with  a  vindictive  snap  of 
her  eyes. 

"Then  you  must  be  silent,"  said  Ishmael,  "or  you  will  be." 

"Look  here,  ole  marse!"  said  Katie,  addressing  the  bench, 
**he  had  his  sassegef action  sassin'  at  me  dere  at  Scraggy! 
now  it's  my  turn!  And  I  gwine  gib  it  to  him  good,  too. 
Say,  my  lordship !  sold  me  to  a  low  life  'fectioner  to  work  in 
de  kitchen — didu't  you!  Umph-humph!  WhaS;  you  gwine 
to  work  at?  not  crickets,  dat's  sartain!  Ebber  try  to  take 
your  recreation  in  de  quarries  wid  a  big  ball  and  chain  to 
your  leg,  eh?  And  an  oberseer  wid  a  long  whip,  ha?"  she 
grinned. 

"Sir,  if  you  have  been  sufficiently  well  entertained  with  this 
exhibition  of  gorilla  intelligence  and  malignity,  will  you  have 
the  goodness  to  put  a  stop  to  the  performance  and  proceed 
with  the  business  of  the  day?"  asked  Lord  Vincent,  arro- 
gantly. 

"Ay,  lad;  though  as  ye  ank  for  a  short  delay  of  proceed- 
ing, in  order  to  get  your  counsel,  which  is  but  reasonable, 
there  is  no  business  on  hand  but  just  to  remand  you  and 
your  companion — puir  lassie — back  to  prison,  for  future  ex- 
amination," said  the  magistrate.  Then  turning  to  a  police- 
man, he  said: 

"If  that  strange  creature  becomes  disorderly  again,  re- 
move her  from  the  room." 

"Nebber  mind,  ole  marse !  he  no  call  for  to  take  de  trouble ! 
I  done  said  all  I  gwine  to  say  and  now  I  gwine  to  shut  up 
my  mouf  tight.  I'd  scorn  to  hit  a  man  arter  he's  down!" 
said  Katie,  bridling  with  a  lofty  assumption  of  magnanimity. 
And  as  she  really  did  shut  her  mouth  fast,  the  point  of  her 
expulsion  was  not  pressed. 

"And  noo,  lad,  naething  remains  but  to  send  you  back," 
said   Sir  Alexander. 

"I  remarked  to  you  before,  sir,  that  I  object  to  be  re- 
manded to  prison,  since  nothing  is  proved  against  me.  I 
totally  object!"  said  the  viscount,  stubbornly. 

"Ay,  lad,  it  appears,  too,  that  ye  object  to  maist  things  in 
legal  procedure;  the  whilk  is  but  natural,  ye  ken,  for  what 
Baith  the  poet  ? 

'Nae  thief  e'er  felt  the  halter  draw 
Wi'  guid  opinion  o'  the  law,'  " 

replied  tbe  magistrate,  with  a  tf  uch  of  caustic  humofv 


Fruits  of  Crime.  221 

'^ut,  sir,  I  am  ready  to  give  bail  to  any  amount." 

"It  will  na  do,  lad!  The  accusation  is  too  grave  a  one. 
Kae  doubt  ye  would  gi'e  me  bail,  and  leg  bail  to  the  boot  o* 
that.  ISTa,  Malcolm,  ye  hae  had  your  fling,  lad,  and  noo  yee'U 
just  hae  to  abide  the  consequences,"  replied  the  magistrate, 
taking  up  a  pen  to  sign  a  document  that  his  clerk  laid  before 
him. 

"Then  I  hope,  sir,  that  since  we  are  to  be  kept  in  re- 
straint, we  shall  be  placed  in  something  like  himian  quarters ; 
and  not  in  that  den  of  wild  beasts,  your  filthy  police-station," 
said  the  viscoimt. 

"Ou,  ay,  surely,  lad.  Ye  shall  be  made  as  comfortable  a3 
is  consistent  wi'  your  safe-keeping.  Christie,  take  the  pris- 
oners to  the  jail,  and  ask  the  governor  to  put  them  in  the 
best  cells  at  his  disposal,  as  a  special  favor  to  mysel'.  And 
ask  him  also  in  my  name  to  be  kind  and  considerate  to  the 
female  prisoner — puir  lassie!"  said  the  magistrate,  handing 
the  document  to  the  policeman  in  question. 

"Ole  marse "  began  Katie,  breaking  her  word,  and  ad- 
dressing the  bench. 
"  "The  court  is  adjourned,"  said  the  magistrate,  rising. 

"But,  old  marse-- — "  repeated  Katie. 

"Remove  the  prisoners,"  he  said,  coming  down  from  his 
Beat. 

"Yes,  but  ole  marse "  she  persisted. 

"Dismiss  the  witnesses!"  he  ordered,  passing  on. 

"Laws  bless  my  soul  alive,  can't  a  body  speak  to  you?'* 
exclaimed  Katie,  catching  hold  of  his  coat  and  detaining  him. 

"What  is  it  that  you  want,  creature  ?"  remanded  Sir  Alex- 
ander, in  astonishment. 

"Only  one  parting  word  to  'lighten  your  mind,  ole  marse  f 
Which  it  is  dis:  Just  now  you  called  dat  whited.  salt-peter 
here  a  pure  lassie,  which,  beggin'  your  pardon,  is  't'ernally 
false,  dough  you  don't  know  it!  'cause  if  she's  pure,  all  de 
wus  ob  de  poor  mis'able  galls  ye  might  pick  up  out'n  de 
streets  is  hebbenly  angels,  cherrybims  and  seryfims.  Dere, 
now,  dat's  de  trufe!  Don't  go  and  say  I  didn't  tell  you!'^ 
And  Katie  let  go  his  coat. 

And  with  a  bow  to  Judge  Merlin  and  his  party  as  ha 
passed  them.  Sir  Alexander  left  the  room. 

The  prisonei*s  were  removed — Faustina  weeping,  and  the 
viscount  aifecting  to  sneer. 

Judge  Merlin  and  Ishmael  went  forth  arm-iin-arm.  Of 
late,  the  old  man  needed  the  support  of  the  yotmg  one  in 
v/^alking.  Sorrow  and  anxiety,  moro  than  age  and  infirmity, 
had  bowed  and  weakened  him. 

As  the  friends  walked  on,  the*-  conversation  t»«7»edl  OQ 
i)h:2  case  In  band,  _ 


2112  Fruits  of  Crime. 

"The  magistrate  seems  disposed  to  be  very  lenient/*  said 
the  judge,  in  a  discontented  tone  of  voice. 

"Not  too  lenient,  I  think,  sir !  He  is  evidently  very  kind- 
ly disposed  toward  the  prisoner,  with  whose  family  he  seems 
to  be  personally  acquainted ;  but,  notwithstanding  all  that, 
you  observe,  he  is  conscientiously  rigid  in  the  discharge  of 
his  magisterial  duties  in  this  case.  He  would  not  accept 
bail  for  the  prisoner,  although  by  stretching  a  point  he  might 
have  done  so,"  replied  Ishmael. 

"I  wonder  if  he  knew  that?  I  wonder  if  he  really  knew 
the  extent  and  limit  of  his  power  as  a  magistrate?  t  doubt 
it!  I  fancy  he  refused  bail  in  order  to  keep  on  the  safe 
Bide  of  an  uncertainty.  For,  do  you  know  that  he  impressed 
me  as  being  a  very  illiterate  man !  Why,  he  speaks  as  broad- 
ly as  the  rudest  Scotch  laborer  I  have  met  with  yetl  He 
tmist  be  an  illiterate  man." 

"Oh,  no,^  sir ;  you  are  quite  mistaken  in  him.  Sir  Alex- 
ander McKetchum  is  a  ripe  scholar,  an  accomplished  mathe- 
matician, an  extensive  linguist,  and,  last  of  all,  a  profound 
lawyer.  _  He  graduated  at  the  celebrated  law  school  of  Glas- 
gow University ;  at  least,  so  I've  been  assured  by  good  author- 
ity," replied  Ishmael. 

"And  speaks  in  a  lingo  as  barbarous  as  that  of  our  own 
negroes  1"  exclaimed  the  judge. 

Ishmael  smiled  and  said : 

"I  have  also  been  informed  that  his  early  life  was  passed 
in  poverty  and  obscurity,  until  the  death  of  a  distant  rela- 
tion suddenly  enriched  him  and  afforded  him  the  means  of 
^paying  his  expenses  at  the  university.  Perhaps  he  clings 
to  his  rustic  style  of  speech  from  the  force  of  early  habit, 
or  from  affection  for  the  accent  of  his  childhood,  or  from  the 
spirit  of  independence,  or  from  all  three  of  these  motives, 
or  from  no  motive  at  all!  However,  with  the  style  of  his 
pronunciation  we  have  nothing  whatever  to  do.  All  that  we 
are  concerned  about  is  his  honesty  and  ability  as  a  magis- 
trate; and  that  appears  to  me  to  be  beyond  question." 

"Oh,  yes,  yes,  I  dare  say  he  will  do  his  duty.  I  am  pleased 
that  he  refused  bail  and  remanded  the  prisoners!" 

"Yes,  he  did  his  duty  in  that  matter,  though  it  must  have 
been  a  very  disagreeable  one.  And  now,  sir,  as  the  prisoners 
are  remanded  and  we  have  nothing  more  to  detain  us  in 
Banff,  had  we  not  better  return  immediately  to  Edinboro'?" 
suggested  Ishmael;  for  you  gee,  ever  since  the  news  of  hiG 
daughter's  misfortunes  had  shaken  the  old  man's  strength, 
it  was  Tshmael  who  had  to  watch  over  him,  to  think  for  him 
and  to  shape  his  course. 

"Y — yes ;  perhaps  we  had.  But  when  I  return  to  Edinboro', 
I  go  to  Cameron  Court,"  said  the  judge,  hesitatingly. 

*Jhe  best  place  for  jou,  aiy,  beyond  all  question." 


Fruits  of  Crime.  22^ 

"Tes;  and  by  the  way,  Ishmael,  I  am  charged  with  an  in- 
titation  from  the  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux  to  yourself,  in- 
viting you  to  accompany  me  jon  my  visit  to  her  ladyship.  Do 
you  think  you  would  like  to  accept  it?'^ 

"Very  much  indeed.  I  have  a  very  pleasant  remembranco 
of  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  though  I  doubt  whether  her  ladyship 
will  be  able  to  recollect  me,"  said  Ishmael  with  a  smile. 

The  judge  was  somewhat  surprised  at  this  ready  acquies- 
cence.    After  a  short  hesitation,  he  said: 

"Do  you  know  that  Claudia  is  staying  at  Cameron  Court  V* 

"Why,  certainly.  It  was  for  that  reason  I  favored  your 
going  there.  It  is,  besides,  under  the  circumstances,  the 
most  desirable  residence  for  Lady  Vincent." 

This  reply  was  made  in  so  calm  a  manner  that  any  latent 
doubt  or  fear  entertained  by  the  judge  that  there  might  bo 
something  embarrassing  or  unpleasant  to  Ishmael  in  his 
prospective  meeting  v;ith  Claudia  was  set  at  rest  forever. 

But  how  would  Claudia  bear  the  meeting  ?  How  would  she 
greet  the  abandoned  lover  of  her  youth?  That  was  the 
question  that  now  troubled  the  judge. 

It  did  not  trouble  Ishmael,  however.  He  had  no  doubts  or 
fears  or  misgivings  on  the  subject.  True,  he  also  remem- 
bered that  there  had  been  a  long  and  deep  attachment  be- 
tween himself  and  Claudia  Merlin;  but  it  had  remained  un- 
spoken, unrevealed.  And  Claudia  in  her  towering  pride  had 
turned  from  him  in  his  struggling  poverty,  and  had  married 
for  rank  and  title  another,  whom  she  despised;  and  he,  Ish- 
mael, had  conquered  his  ill-placed  passion  and  fixed  his  affec- 
tions upon  a  lovelier  maiden.  But  that  all  belonged  to  the 
past.  And  now,  safe  in  his  pure  integrity  and  happy  love, 
he  felt  no  sort  of  hesitation  in  meeting  Lady  Vincent,  espe- 
cially as  he  knew  that,  in  order  to  serve  her  ladyship  effect- 
ually, it  was  necessary  that  he  should  see  her  personally. 

But  Ishmael  never  lost  sight  of  the  business  immediately 
in  hand.  Their  walk  from  the  town  hall  toward  their  hotel 
took  them  immediately  past  the  Aberdeen  stage-coach  office. 
Here  Ishmael  stopped  a  moment,  to  secure  places  for  him- 
self and  company  in  the  coach  that  started  at  eleven  o'clock. 

"We  shall  only  have  time  to  reach  the  hotel  and  pack  our 
portmanteaux  before  the  coach  will  call  for  us.  It  is  a  hasty 
journey;  but  then  it  will  enable  us  to  catch  the  afternoon 
train  at  Aberdeen,  and  reach  Edinboro'  early  in  the  evening," 
said  Ishmael. 
'"■  And  the  judge  acquiesced. 

When  they  entered  the  inn,  they  found  that  the  professor 
and  the  three  negroes  were  there  before  them. 

Ishmael  gave  the  requisite  directions,  and  they  were  so 
promptly  executed  that  when,  a  few  minutes  later,  the  coach 
called,  tibe  whole  party  were  ready  to  start.    The  judge  and 


224  Fruits  of  Crime. 

Ishmael  rode  inside,  and  the  professor  and  the  three  negroes 
on  the  outside;  and  thus  they  journeyed  to  Aberdeen,  where 
they  arrived  in  time  to  jump  on  board  the  express  train  that 
left  at  two  o'clock  for  Edinboro'.  They  reached  Edinboro' 
at  five  in  the  afternoon,  and  drove  immediately  to  llagru- 
der's  Hotel.  Here  they  stopped  only  long  enough  to  cnange 
their  traveling  dresses  and  dine.  And  then,  leaving  the  three 
negroes  in  charge  of  the  professor,  they  set  out  in  a  cab 
for  Cameron  Court.  It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening 
when  they  arrived  and  sent  in  their  cards. 

The  countess  and  Claudia  were  at  tea  in  the  little  draw- 
ing-room when  the  cards  were  brought  in. 

"Show  the  gentlemen  into  this  room,"  said  Lady  Hurst- 
monceux  to  the  servant  who  had  brought  them. 

And  in  a  few  minutes  the  door  was  thrown  open  and — 

"Judge  Merlin  and  Mr.  Worth"  were  announced. 

The  countess  arose  to  welcome  her  guests. 

But  Claudia  felt  all  her  senses  reel  as  the  room  seemed 
to  turn  around  with  her. 

Judge  Merlin  shook  hands  with  his  hostess  and  presented 
Ishmael  to  her,  and  then,  leaving  them  speaking  together,  he 
advanced  to  embracee  his  daughter. 

"My  dearest  Claudia,  all  is  well !  We  have  settled  the  whole 
party,  the  viscount,  the  valet  and  the  woman.  They  are 
lodged  in  jail,  and  are  safe  to  meet  the  punishment  of  their 
crimes,"  he  said,  as  he  folded  her  to  his  bosom. 

But  oh !  why  did  her  heart  beat  so  wildly,  throbbing  almost 
audibly  against  her  father's  breast? 

He  held  her  there  for  a  few  seconds;  it  was  as  long  as 
he  decently  could,  and  then,  gently  releasing  her,  he  turned 
toward  Ishmael,  and,  beckoning  him  to  approach,  said : 

"My  daughter,  here  is  an  old  friend  come  to  see  you. 
Welcome  him." 

Ishmael  advanced  and  bowed  gravely. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Worth,"  said  Claudia  in  a  low 
voice,  as  she  held  out  her  hand. 

He  took  it,  bowed  over  it  and  said : 

"I  hope  I  find  you  well,  Lady  Vincent." 

And  then  as  he  raised  his  head  their  eyes  met;  his  eye^-~ 
those  sweet,  truthful,  earnest  dark  eyes,  inherited  from  his 
mother — were  full  of  the  most  respectful  sympathy.  But 
hers — oh,  hers ! 

She  did  not  mean  to  look  at  him  so!  but  sometimes  the 
soul  in  a  crisis  of  agony  will  burst  all  bounds  and  reveal 
itself,  though  such  revelation  were  fraught  with  fate.  Grief, 
shame,  remorse  and  passionate  regret  for  the  lost  love  and 
squandered  happiness  that  might  have  been  hers,  were  fill  re' 
vealed  in  the  thrilling,  pathetic,  deprecating  gaze  with  \7hich 


Fruits  of  Cnme.  225 

she  once  more  met  the  eyes  of  her  girlhood's  yoUng  worship- 
per, her  worshipper  no  longer! 

"Of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen 
The  saddest  are  these :  'It  might  have  been.' " 

Only  for  an  instant  did  she  forget  herself;  and  then, 
Claudia  Merlin  was  repressed  and  Lady  Vincent  re-instated. 
Her  voice  was  calm  as  she  replied : 

"It  was  very  kind  in  you,  Mr.  Worth,  to  come  so  long  a 
distance,  at  so  great  a  cost  to  your  professional  interests, 
for  the  sake  of  obliging  my  father  and  serving  me." 

"I  would  have  come  ten  times  the  distance,  at  ten  times 
the  cost,  to  have  obliged  or  served  either,"  replied  Ishmael, 
earnestly,  as  he  resigned  her  hand,  which  until  then  he  had 
held. 

"I  believe  you  would.  I  know  you  would.  I  thank  you 
more  than  I  can  say,"  she  answered. 

"Have  you  been  to  tea.  Judge  Merlin?"  inquired  the 
countess,  hospitably. 

"No,  madam;  but  will  be  very  glad  of  a  cup,"  answered 
the  judge,  pleased  with  any  divertisement. 

Lady  Hurstmonceux  rang,  and  ordered  fresh  tea  and 
toast  and  more  cups   and   saucers. 

And  the  party  seated  themselves.  And  thus  the  embarrass- 
ment of  that  dreaded  meeting  was  overgot. 

While  they  sipped  their  tea,  the  judge  exerted  himself  to 
be  interesting.  He  gave  a  graphic  account  of  the  scene  in 
the  magistrate's  office;  the  assumption  of  haughty  dignity 
and  defiance  on  the  part  of  the  viscount ;  the  pitiable  terrors 
of  the  ex-opera  singer ;  the  vindictive  triumph  of  Katie ;  and 
the  broad  accent,  caustic  humor,  and  official  obstinacy  of  the 
magistrate.  Ishmael,  when  appealed  to,  assisted  his  memory. 
Claudia  was  gravely  interested.  But  Lady  Hurstmonceux 
was  excessively  amused. 

They  were  surprised  to  hear  that  further  proceedings  were 
deferred;  but  they  at  last  admitted  that  they  would  be 
obliged  to  be  patient  under  "the  law's  delays." 

After  tea,  fearing  that  her  guests  were  in  danger  of  "mop- 
ing," Lady  Hurstmonceux  proposed  a  game  of  whist,  saying, 
playfully,  that  it  was  very  seldom  she  was  so  fortunate  as 
to  have  exactly  the  right  number  of  even  visitors  to  form  a 
rubber. 

And  as  no  one  gainsaid  their  hostess,  the  tea  service  was 
taken  away,  the  table  cleared,  and  the  cards  brought. 

They  seated  themselves  and  cut  for  partners;  and  Claudia 
and  her  father  were  pitted  against  Lady  Hurstmonceux  and 
Ishmael.  A 

Do  you  wonder  at  this  ?  Do  you  wonder  that  people  who 
bad  just  passed  through  scenes  of  great  trouble,  and  wer^ 


^26  Nemesis. 

on  the  eve,  yes,  in  the  very  midst  of  a  fatal  crisis;  people 
whose  minds  were  filled  with  sorrow,  humiliation,  and  intense 
anxiety,  should  gather  around  a  table  for  a  quiet  game  of 
whist ;  yes,  and  enjoy  it,  too  ? 

Why,  if  you  will  take  time  to  reflect,  you  will  remember 
that  just  such  things  are  done  in  our  parlors  and  drawing- 
rooms  every  day  and  night  of  our  lives.  Our  thoughts,  our 
passions,  our  troubles,  are  put  down,  covered  over,  ignored, 
and  we — play  whist,  get  interested  in  honors  and  odd  tricks, 
and  win  or  lose  the  rub ;  or  do  something  equally  at  variance 
with  the  inner  life,  that  lives  on  all  the  same! 

Our  party  spent  a  pleasant  week  at  Cameron  Court. 

Ishmae  occupied  himself  with  making  notes  for  the  ap- 
proaching trials,  or  with  visiting  the  historical  monuments  of 
the  neighborhood. 

Judge  Merlin  devoted  himself  to  his  daughter. 

Lady  Hurstmonceux  studied  the  comfort  of  her  guests, 
and  succeeded  in  securing  it. 

And  thus  the  days  passed  until  they  received  an  official 
summons  to  appear  before  Sir  Alexander  McKetchum-at  the 
examination  of  Lord  Vincent  and  Mrs.  Dugald. 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 

NEMESIS. 

The  same  carriage  that  brought  Lord  Vincent  and  Mrs. 
Dugald  to  the  town  hall  conveyed  them  from  that  place  to 
the  county  jail. 

There  Lord  Vincent  finally  dismissed  it,  sending  it  home  to 
the  castle,  and  instructing  Cuthbert  to  pack  up  some  changes 
of  clothing  and  his  dressing-case  and  a  few  books  and  to 
bring  them  to  him  at  the  prison. 

Mrs.  Dugald  at  the  same  time  stopped  crying  long  enough 
to  order  the  old  man  to  ask  Mrs.  MacDonald  to  put  up  all 
that  might  be  necessary  to  her  comfort  for  a  week,  and  dis- 
patch it  by  the  same  messenger  that  should  bring  Lord  Vin- 
cent's effects.  ' 

These  arrangements  concluded,  the  carriage  drove  away 
and  Policeman  McRae  conducted  the  prisoners  into  the  jail. 

He  took  them  first  into  the  warden's  room,  where  he  pro- 
duced the  warrant  for  their  committal  and  delivered  them  up. 

The  ward,  "Auld  Saundie  Gra'ame,"  as  he  was  familiarly 
Btyled,  was  a  tall,  gaunt,  hard-favored  old  Scot,  who  had 
-been  too  many  years  in  his  present  position  to  be  astonished 
at  any  description  of  prisoner  that  might  be  confided  to  his 
custody.  In  his  public  service  of  more  than  a  quarter  of 
^  century  he  had  had  turned  over  to  his  tender  mercies  morQ 


Nemesis.  227 

than  one  elegantly  dressed  female,  and  many  more  than  one 
titled  scamp.  So,  without  evincing  the  least  surprise,  he  sim- 
ply took  the  female  prisoner,  named  in  the  warrant  "Faustina 
jDugald,"  to  be  just  what  she  was — a  fallen  angel  who  had 
dropped  into  the  clutches  of  the  law;  and  the  male  pris- 
oner, named  in  the  warrant  "Malcolm  Dugald,  Viscount 
Vincent,"  to  be — what  he  was — a  noble  rogue,  guilty  of  being 
found  out. 

While  he  was  reading  the  warrants,  entering  their  names 
in  his  books,  and  writing  out  a  receipt  for  their  "bodies," 
Lord  Vincent  stood  with  his  fettered  hands  clasped,  his  head 
bowed  upon  his  chest,  and  his  countenance  set  in  grim  en- 
durance; and  Faustina  stood  wringing  her  hands,  weeping 
and  moaning,  and  altogether  making  a  good  deal  of  noise. 

"Whisht,  whisht,  bairniel  dinna  greet  sae  loud!  Heehl 
but  ye  mak'  din  eneugh  to  deave  a  miller !"  expostulated  the 
warden,  as  he  handed  the  receipt  to  McRae  and  turned,  his 
regards  to  the  female  prisoner. 

But  the  only  effect  of  his  words  upon  Faustina  was  to 
open  the  sluices  of  her  tears  and  make  them  flow  in  greater 
abundance. 

"Eh,  lassie,  'tis  pity  of  you,  too!  But  hae  ye  ne'er  been 
tauld  that  the  way  o'  the  transgressor  is  haird?  and  the 
wages  o'  sin  is  deeth  ?"  said  the  "kindly"  Scot. 

"But  I  do  not  deserve  death!  I  never  did  kill  anybody 
myself!"  whispered  Faustina. 

"Wha  the  de'il  said  ye  did?  I  was  quoting  the  Book 
whilk  I  greatly  fear  ye  dinna  af ten  look  into,  or  ye  would  ^a 
be  here  noo." 

"But  I  have  no  right  to  be  here!  I  never  did  anything, 
I  myself,  to  deserve  such  treatment!  It  was  Lord  Vincent's 
fault.    It  was  he  who  brought  me  to  this !"  whined  Faustina. 

"ISTae  doobt!  nae  doobt  at  a'!  He's  ane  0'  the  natural 
enemies  o'  your  sex,  ye  ken.  And  ye  suld  o'  thocht  o'  that  be- 
fore ye  trusted  him  sae  far." 

'T!  did  not  trust  him  at  all!  And  I  do  not  know  what 
you  mean  by  your  insinuation,  you  horrid  old  red-headed 
beast!"  cried  Faustina. 

"Whisht!  whisht!  hand  your  tongue,  woman!  Dinna  be 
sae  abusive!  Fou'  words  du  nae  guid,  as  I  aften  hae  occa- 
sion to  impress  upon  the  malefactors  that  are  brocht  here 
for  safe-keeping,"  said  the  jailer,  as  he  turned  and  looked 
around  upon  the  underlings  in  attendance.  Then  beckoning 
one  of  the  turnkeys  to  him,  he  said : 

"Here,  Cuddie,  tak'  this  lass  into  the  north  corridor  o' 
the  women's  ward;  and  when  ye  hae  her  safe  in  the  cell,  yo 
maun  knock  off  the  irons  fra  her  wrists.  Gang  wi  Cuddie, 
lass;  an  dinna  be  fashed;  he's  nae  a  bad  chiel." 

Cuddie,  a  big,  honest,  good-natured  looking  bmtej  t©ok  9 
IB  .  ^-  -  •        ■'■    • 


azS  Nemesis, 

bnnch  of  great  keys  from  their  hook  on  the  wall,  and  signing 
for  his  prisoner  to  follow  him,  turned  to  depart. 

But  Faustina  showed  no  disposition  to  obey  the  order. 
And  McRae,  who  had  lingered  in  the  room,  now  turned  to 
the  warden  and  said: 

"If  you  please,  sir,  Sir  Alexander  McKetchum  desired  me 
to  request  you  to  put  these  prisoners  into  as  comfortable 
quarters  as  you  could  command,  consistent  with  their  safe 
custody." 

"Sir  Alexander  would  do  weel  to  mind  his  ain  business. 
Wha  the  de'il  gi'e  him  commission  to  dictate  to  me  J"  de- 
manded the  old  Scot,  wrathfully. 

"Nay,  sir,  he  only  makes  the  request  as  a  personal  favor," 
eaid  McRae,  deprecatingly. 

"Ou,  ay,  awell,  that's  anither  thing!  Though  there's  nae 
muckle  of  a  choice  amang  the  cells,  for  that  matter;  forbye 
it's  the  four  points  o'  the  compass,  nor',  sou',  east  and  wast. 
The  jail  is  square  and  fronts  nor',  and  the  cells  range  ac- 
cordingly. They're  nae  better  than  the  nor'  corridor  o'  the 
women's  ward.    Tak'  the  lass  awa,  Cuddie." 

Cuddie  laid  his  hand  not  unkindly  on  the  shoulder  of  his 
prisoner,  and  Faustina,  seeing  at  last  that  resistance  was 
quite  in  vain,  followed  him  out. 

"Noo,  Donald,  mon,"  said  the  jailer,  beckoning  another 
turnkey,  "convoy  his  lairdship  to  the  sou'wast  corner  cell  in 
the  men's  ward.  It  has  the  advantage  of  twa  windows  and 
mare  sunshine  than  fa's  to  the  lot  o'  prison  cells  in  general. 
And  when  ye  get  him  there  relieve  him  o'  his  manacles." 

The  officer  addressed  took  down  his  bunch  of  keys,  and 
turned  to  his  prisoner.  But  Lord  Vincent  did  not  wait  for 
the  desecrating  hand  of  the  turnkey  to  be  laid  upon  his 
shoulder.    With  a  haughty  gesture  and  tone  he  said: 

"Lead  the  way,  fellow ;  I  follow  you." 

And  Donald  bowed  and  preceded  his  prisoner  as  if  lie  had 
been  a  head-waiter  of  a  fashionable  hotel,  showing  an  hon- 
ored guest  to  his  apartments. 

When  they  were  gone  the  old  warden  turned  to  the  police- 
man: 

"Will  it  gae  hard  wi'  them,  do  ye  think,  McRae?" 

"I  think  it  will  send  them  to  penal  servitude  for  twenty 
years  or  for  life." 

Meanwhile  Cuddie  conducted  his  prisoner  through  long 
lines  of  close,  musty,  fetid  passages,  and  up  high  flights  of 
cold,  damp  stone  stairs,  to  the  very  top  of  the  building,  where 
the  women's  wards  were  situated. 

Here  he  found  a  stout  old  woman,  in  a  linen  cap,  plaid 
shawl,  and  linsey  gown,  seated  at  an  end  window,  with  her 
feet  upon  a  foot-stove^  and  her  hands  engaged  in  knitting  tk 
ptocking.  . 


Nemesis.  229 

She  was  Mrs.  Ferguson,  the  female  turnkey. 

"Here,  mither,  I  hae  brocht  you  anither  prisoner,"  said 
Cuddie,  coming  up  with  his  charge. 

The  old  woman  settled  her  spectacles  on  her  nose,  and 
looked  up,  taking  a  deliberate  survey  of  the  newcomer,  as 
she  said: 

.  "Hech!  the  quean  is  unco  foine;  they  be  braw  ciaes  to 
come  to  prison  in.  Eh,  Cuddie,  I  wad  suner  hae  any  ither 
than  ane  o'  these  hizzies  brocht  in." 

"But,  mither,  the  word  is  that  she  maun  be  made  comfort- 
able," said  Cuddie. 

"Ou,  ay — nae  doobt,  nae  doobt!  she  will  be  some  callant's 
light  0'  luve,  wha  hae  a  plenty  o'  siller!"  replied  the  old 
woman  scornfully,  as  she  arose  from  her  place  and  led  the 
way  to  the  door  of  a  cell  about  half  way  down  the  same 
corridor. 

"Ye'll  pit  her  in  here.  It  will  be  as  guid  as  anither,"  she 
said. 

Cuddie  detached  a  certain  key  from  his  bunch  and  handed 
it  to  her.    She  opened  the  door,  and  they  entered. 

The  cell  was  a  small  stone  chamber,  six  feet  by  eight, 
with  one  small  grated  window,  facing  the  door.  On  the  right 
of  the  window  was  a  narrow  bed,  filling  up  that  side  of  the 
cell;  on  the  left  was  a  rusty  stove;  that  was  all;  there  was 
no  chair,  no  table,  no  strip  of  carpet  on  the  cold  stone  floor; 
ell  was  comfortless,  desolate,  dreary. 

Faustina  burst  into  a  fresh  flood  of  tears  as  she  threw 
herself  upon  the  wretched  bed. 

"Let  me  tak'  aff  the  fetters,"  said  Cuddie,  gently. 

Faustina  arose  to  a  sitting  position,  and  held  up  her  hands. 

Cuddie,  with  some  trouble,  got  them  off,  but  so  awkwardly 
that  he  bruised  and  grazed  her  wrists  in  doing  so  while  Faus- 
tina wept  piteously  and  railed  freely. 

Cuddie  was  too  good-natured  to  mind  the  railing,  but  the 
dame  fired  up : 

"Haud  your  gowlin',  ye  ne'er-do-well!  Gin  ye  had  your 
deserts,  for  a  fou' -mouthed  jaud,  ye'd  be  in  a  dark  cell  on 
bread  and  water !" 

"Whisht!  whisht,  mither!  Let  her  hae  the  length  o'  her 
tongue,  puir  lass !  It  does  her  guid,  and  it  does  me  na  hurt. 
There,  lass — the  aims  are  aff,  and  if  ye'll  o'ny  put  your  ker- 
chief roun'  your  bonnie  wrists  they'll  sune  be  weel  eneugh." 

"Take  me  away!  take  me  away  from  that  horrid  old 
woman !"  cried  Faustina,  turning  her  wrath  upon  the  dame, 
end  appealing  to  Cuddie. 

"Whisht!  dinna  ye  mind  her.  She's  a  puir  doited  auld 
carline!"  said  Cuddie,  in  a  voice  happily  too  low  to  reach 
j&e  eajrs  of  said  "carline.'i 


230  Nemesis. 

"Ye  maunna  guid  her  siccan  a  sair  gait,  mither,"  said 
Cuddie,  as  they  left  the  cell. 

"I  doobt  she  hae  guided  hersel'  an  unco'  ill  ane!"  retorted 
the  dame. 

Faustina  was  left  sitting  on  the  side  of  the  hard  bed,  weep- 
ing bitterly.  She  did  not  throw  off  her  bonnet  or  cloak. 
She  could  not  make  herself  at  home  in  this  wretched  den. 
Besides,  it  was  bitterly  cold;  there  was  no  fire  in  the  rusty 
Btove,  and  she  wrapped  her  sables  more  closely  around  her. 

She  remained  there,  in  the  same  position,  cowering,  shiv- 
ering and  weeping,  for  two  or  three  miserable  hours,  when 
she  was  at  length  broken  in  upon  by  the  old  damo,  who 
brought  in  her  prison  dinner — coarse  beef  broth,  in  a  tin 
can,  with  an  iron  spoon,  and  a  thick  hunk  of  oatmeal  bread 
on  a  tin  plate. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Faustina. 

"Your  dinner.  Is  it  na  guid  o'  the  authorities  to  feed  the 
like  o'  you  for  naething?" 

"My  dinner!  ugh!  Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  swallow 
that  swill — fit  only  for  pigs?"  exclaimed  Faustina,  in  dis- 
gust. 

"Hech,  sirs!  what's  the  warld  comming  to?  It  is  guid 
broose,  verra  guid  broose,  that  many  an  honest  woman  would 
be  unco'  glad  to  hae  for  hersel'  and  her  puir  bairns,  forbye 
you!"  said  the  dame,  wrathfully. 

"Take  it  away !  the  sight  of  it  makes  me  ill !" 

"Verra  weel;  just  as  you  please.  I'll  set  it  here,  till  ye 
come  to  your  stomach,"  said  the  dame,  setting  the  can  and 
plate  down  upon  the  floor,  for  there  was  no  other  place  to  put 
them. 

"I  want  a  fire !  I  am  frozen !"  cried  Faustina. 

"Why  did  na  ye  say  sae  before  ?"  growled  the  dame,  going 
out. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  came  back,  bringing  coals  and  kin- 
dlings, and  lighted  the  fire,  and  then  retreated  as  sullenly 
she  had  entered. 

Faustina  drew  near  the  stove,  and  sat  down  upon  the 
floor  to  hover  over  it. 

When  she  grew  warm  her  eyes  began  to  glitter  dangerous- 
ly. She  turned  herself  around  and  surveyed  the  place.  Like 
the  frozen  viper  thawed  to  life,  her  first  instinct  was  to  bite. 

"I  would  like  to  set  fire  to  the  prison,"  she  said. 

But  a  moment's  reflection  proved  to  her  the  folly  of  this 
impulse.  If  she  should  use  the  fire  in  her  stove  for  such  in- 
cendiary purposes,  herself  would  be  the  only  thing  burned  up ; 
the  cell  of  stone  and  its  furniture  of  iron  would  escape  with 
a  smoking. 

She  put  off  her  bonnet  and  her  sables — the  first  time  since 
the  night  before,  and  she  threw  herself  upon  the  bed.  and 


Nemesis.  231 

lay  there  in  torment  until  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when 
the  door  was  once  more  unlocked  by  the  dame,  who  brought 
her  the  prison  supper — a  tin  can  of  oatmeal  porridge. 

"Here's  your  parritch;  ye  may  eat  it  or  leave  it,  just  as 
ye  please,"  said  the  woman,  setting  the  can  on  the  floor. 

"I  want  some  tea !  I  will  have  none  of  your  filthy  messes  I 
Bring  me  some  tea!"  cried  Faustina. 

"I  wish  ye  may  get  it,  lassie,  that's  a',"  answered  the  dame, 
as  she  went  out  and  locked  the  door  behind  her. 

That  was  the  last  visit  Faustina  had  that  night.  She  lay 
on  her  hard  bed,  weeping,  moaning,  and  lamenting  her  fate, 
until  the  last  light  of  day  died  out  of  the  narrow  window, 
and  left  the  cell  in  darkness,  but  for  the  dim  red  ray  in  the 
corner,  that  showed  where  the  fire  in  the  rusty  stove  burned. 
And  still  she  lay  there,  until  the  pangs  of  hunger  began  to 
assail  her.  These  she  bore  some  time  before  she  could  over- 
come her  repugnance  to  the  prison  fare.  At  length,  however, 
she  arose  and  groped  her  way  about  the  stone  floor  until  she 
found  the  can  of  beef  broth,  which,  upon  trying,  she  dis- 
covered to  taste  better  than  it  looked.  She  ate  it  all;  then 
she  ate  the  hunk  of  bread ;  and  finally  she  finished  with  the 
oatmeal  porridge.  And  then,  without  undressing,  she  threw 
herself  on  the  outside  of  her  bed ;  and,  overcome  with  fatigue, 
distress  and  vigilance,  she  fell  into  a  deep  "sleep  that  lasted 
until  the  morning. 

It  might  have  lasted  much  longer;  but  she  was  aroused 
about  seven  o'clock  by  the  entrance  of  her  keeper,  bringing 
her  breakfast. 

"Eh!"  said  the  dame,  glancing  at  the  empty  cans,  "but  I 
thocht  ye  would  come  to  your  stomach !  Here's  your  break- 
fast." 

Faustina  raised  herself  up  and  gazed  around  in  a  be- 
wildered way,  but  she  soon  recollected  herself,  and  looked 
inquiringly  at  her  keeper. 

"It's  your  breakfast,"  said  the  latter;  "it's  guid  rye  coffee, 
sweeted  wi'  treacle,  and  a  braw  bit  o'  bannock." 

"I  want  water  and  soap  and  towels,"  said  Faustina,  in 
an  angry,  peremptory  manner. 

"Ou,  ay,  nae  doobt,  nae  doobt;  and  ye  would  like  a  lady's 
maid,  and  some  perfumery  'till  you*  toilet.  Aweel,  there  is 
a  stone  jug  and  bowl  of  water,  and  a  hempen  clout  ahint 
the  stove,  gin  that  will  serve  your  purpose,"  said  the  dame, 
setting  down  the  breakfast,  and  gathering  the  empty  cans 
from  the  floor  as  she  left  the  cell. 

Faustina,  poor  wretch,  made  such  a  toilet  as  her  rude 
providings  enabled  her  to  do,  and  then,  with  what  appetite 
she  might,  made  her  morning  meal.  And  then  she  sat  on 
the  edge  of  her  bed,  and  cried  and  wished  herself  dead. 

Xt  about  eleven  o'clock  she  heard  footsteps  and  voices  ai}" 


^32  Nemesis. 

preaching  the  cell.  'And  the  door  was  opened  by  the  turn- 
key, who  ushered  in  Mrs.  MacDonalJ,  followed  by  a  servant 
from  the  castle,  bringing  a  large  box  and  a  basket. 

The  servant  sat  down  his  burdens  and  retired  with  the 
turnkey,  who  immediately  locked  the  door. 

And  not  until  then,  when  they  were  left  alone,  did  this 
precious  pair  of  female  friends  rush  into  each  other's  arms, 
Faustina  bursting  into  tears  and  sobbing  violently  on  the 
bosom  of  Mrs.  MacDonald,  and  Mrs.  MacDonald  wheedling, 
caressing  and  soothing  Faustina. 

"Mine  pet,  mine  darling,  mine  bonny  bairn,"  were  some  of 
the  epithets  of  endearment  bestowed  by  the  lady  upon  her 
favorite. 

"Oh,  madam!  what  a  purgatory  of  a  place,  and  what 
demons  of  people !"  Faustina  cried. 

"Yes,  my  sweet  child,  yes,  I  know  it;  but  bear  up!" 

"Nothing  fit  to  eat,  or  drink,  or  sleep  on,  or  sit  down,  or 
even  to  wash  with!  and  no  one  to  speak  a  civil  word  to  me!" 
wailed  Faustina,  still  dwelling  upon  present  inconveniences 
rather  than  thinking  of  the  future  perils. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  yes,  I  know;  but  now,  sit  you  down  and 
see  what  I  have  brought  you,"  said  Mrs.  MacDonald,  gently 
forcing  Faustina  to  seat  herself  upon  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"Look  at  my  poor  dress!"  said  Faustina,  pointing  down 
to  the  delicate  white  evening-dress  in  Vvhich  she  had  been 
arrested,  and  which  was  now  crumpled,  torn  and  stained. 

"Eh!  but  that's  a  woful  sight!  But  I  thought  of  it,  my 
bairn,  and  I  have  brought  you  a  plain  black  silk  and  white 
linen  collars  and  sleeves.  Let  me  help  you  to  change  your 
dress,  and  I  will  take  that  white  one  home  with  me." 

Faustina  agreed  to  this,  and  when  the  change  was  effected 
she  certainly  presented  a  more  respectable  appearance. 

Mrs.  MacDonald  next  unpacked  the  large  basket,  taking 
from  it  a  dressing-case,  furnished  with  every  requisite  for  the 
toilet;  a  work  box,  with  every  convenience  for  a  lady's  busy- 
idleness  ;  and  a  writing-desk,  with  every  necessary  article  for 
epistolary  correspondence. 

"Now,  where  shall  I  put  them?"  she  inquired,  looking 
around  upon  the  bare  cell. 

"Ah!  the  beastly  place!"  exclaimed  Faustina;  "there  is 
no  table,  no  stand ;  you  will  have  to  leave  them  on  the  floor, 
or  set  them  on  the  window-sill !" 

Mrs.  MacDonald  ranged  them  on  the  floor,  against  the 
wall  under  the  window. 
_  And  then  she  rolled  up    the    spoiled    evening-dress    and 
srowded  it  into  the  empty  basket.     Next  she  took  the  trunk 
and  pushed  it  under  the  bed,  saying: 

"In  that  trunk,  my  dear,  you  will  find  every  requisite 
change  of  clothing.    The  basket  I  will  take  back." 


Nemesis.  J33 

« 

"Ah,  but  f  want  many  more  things  beside  clothing.  T  want 
tea  and  coffee.  I  want  bed-linen  and  china;  and — many 
more  things !"  said  Faustina,  impatiently. 

"And  you  shall  have  everything  you  want,  my  dear.  Your 
purse  is  in  your  writing-desk.  There  are  a  hundred  and 
forty  guineas  in  it.  Money  will  buy  you  all  you  want  1  And 
I  will  see  it  brought,"  said  Mrs.  MacDonald,  going  to  the 
cell-door  and  rapping. 

Dame  Ferguson  came  and  unlocked  it. 

"I  wish  to  come  out,"  said  Mrs.  MacDonald. 

"Ay,  me  leddy,"  said  the  dame,  courtesying  and  making 
way  for  the  visitor  to  pass;  for  the  carriage,  with  the  Hurst- 
monceux  arms  emblazoned  upon  its  panels,  the  servant  in  the 
livery  of  the  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux,  and  the  haughty  air  of 
the  lady  visitor,  all  impressed  the  female  turnkey  with  a  feel- 
ing of  awe. 

"I  wish  to  speak  with  you,  dame!"  said  Mrs.  MacDonald. 

"Ay,  me  leddy!  and  muckle  honor  till  me!"  replied  the 
woman,  with  another  low  courtesy,  as  she  led  the  way  to  her 
seat  at  the  window  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  corridor. 

"I  wish  to  bespeak  your  attention  to  the  lady  I  have  just 
left,"  said  Mrs.  MacDonald. 

"Ay,  me  leddy !  Ye  will  be  ane  o'  the  beneevolent  leddieg 
wha  gang  about,  seeking  "for  the  lost  sheep  o'  the  house  o* 
Israel,  meaning  sic  puir  misguided  lasses  as  yon !  Ye'll  be 
aiblins,  ane  o'  the  leddy  directors  o'  the  Magdalen  Hospital  ?" 
said  Mrs,  Ferguson. 

"The — what?  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  woman!  I 
am  speaking  to  you  of  a  lady — the  Honorable  Mrs.  Dugald." 

"A  leddy?  The  Honorable  Mistress  Dugald?  Ou!  ay! 
f  orgie  me,  your  leddyship !  I'm  e'en  but  a  puir,  auld,  doitted 
boddie !  I  e'en  thocht  ye  were  talking  o'  yon  misguided  quean 
in  the  cell.  The  Honorable  Mistress  Dugald !  She'll  be  like 
yoursel',  interested  in  yon  lassie ;  and  aiblins  ain  o'  the  leddy 
directors  o'  the  Magdalen." 

"I  think  you  are  a  fool!  The  misguided  lassie,  as  you 
have  the  impudence  to  call  her,  is  no  misguided  lassie  at 
all!  She  is  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Dugald,  of  Castle  Cragg!" 
said  Mrs.  MacDonald,  impatiently. 

"Wha — slie — the  lass  in  yon  cell,  the  Honorable — ^Mistress 
—Dugald?" 

"Herself!" 

"Hech!  that's  awfu'!" 

"So  I  wished  to  give  you  a  hint  to  treat  her  with  the 
consideration  due  to  her  rank." 

"Eh,  sirs !  but  that's  awfu' !"  repeated  the  dame,  unable  to 
overget  her  astonishment. 

"She  has  money  enough  to  pay  for  all  that  she  requir*^ 


234  Nemesis. 

and  to  reward  those  who  are  kind  to  her  besides,"  continued 
[Mrs.  MacDonald. 

"N"ae  doobt!  nae  doobtl  bags  o'  gowd  and  siller!  bags  o' 
gowd  and  siller!  What  a  puir,  auld,  doitted,  fule  bodie  I 
was,  to  be  sure !"  said  the  dame,  in  a  tone  of  regret. 

"Now,  I  want  to  know  whether  she  cannot  have  a  few 
comforts  in  her  cell,  if  she  is  able  and  willing  to  pay  for 
ithem,  and  to  reward  her  attendants  for  bringing  them?" 

"And  what  for  no?  The  bonny  leddy  sail  hae  a'  that  she 
craves,  whilk  is  consistent  wi'  her  safe-keeping." 

"And  certainly  her  friends  would  ask  no  more." 

"What  would  her  leddyship  like  to  begin  wi'  ?" 

"She  is  to  remain  here  a  week;  therefore  she  would  like  to 
have  her  cell  fitted  up  comfortably.  She  will  want  a  piece 
of  carpeting  to  cover  the  floor;  some  nice  fine  bedding  and 
bed-linen;  a  toilet  service  of  china;  a  single  dinner  and  tea 
service  of  china;  and  a  silver  fork  and  spoon.  Can  you 
recollect  all  these  articles?" 

"What  for  no?" 

"But  stay,  I  forgot!  she  will  want  a  small  table  and  an 
easy-chair  and  foot-stool.    Can  you  remember  them  all?" 

"Ilkaane!" 

"Twenty  pounds,  I  should  think,  would  cover  the  whole 
expense.  Here  is  the  money;  take  it  and  send  out  and  get 
the  things  as  soon  as  you  can,"  said  Mrs.  MacDonald,  put- 
ting two  ten-pound  notes  in  the  hand  of  the  dame. 

"I'll  hae  them  all  in  by  twal'  o'  the  clock,"  answered  the 
dame,  zealously.  "Be  guid  till  us!  The  Honorable  Mrs. 
Dugald !  Yon  quean !  Who'd  hae  thocht  it  ?  But  what  will 
be  the  reason  they  pit  the  bonny  leddy  in  prison  ?  It's  won- 
derf u' !     It  canna  be  for  ony  misdeed  ?" 

"No,  dame,  it  is  for  no  misdeed.  Ah!  you  have  not  read 
history,  or  you  would  know  that  ladies  of  the  highest  rank, 
even  queens  and  princesses,  have  been  sometimes  put  in 
prison." 

"Guid  be  guid  till  us!  For  what  crime,  gin  your  leddy- 
ship pleases  ?" 

"For  no  crime  at  all.  They  have  been  accused  of  treason, 
or  conspiracy,  or  something." 

"And  sic  will  be  the  case  wi'  this  puir  leddy?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  MacDonald,  whose  regard  for  truth  was 
not  of  the  strictest  description. 

"And  what  did  they  do  wi'  the  puir  queans?" 

"Cut  off  their  heads." 

"Hech!  that  was  awfu'!  And  what  will  they  do  wi'  this 
puir  leddy?" 

"Release  her  after  a  while,  because  they  can  prove  nothing 
Bgainst  her,  and  because  she  has  powerful  friends." 

"Eh.  but  that's  puid," 


Nemesis.  235 

"And  tiiose  friends  will  well  reward  such  of  tli«  officers  of 
the  prison  as  shall  be  kind  to  her  during  her  incarceration," 
said  Mrs.  MacDonald,  meaningly.  "And  now  I  will  trouble 
you  to  unlock  the  door  and  admit  me  for  a  few  minutes  to 
see  Mrs.  Dugald." 

"Surely,  me  leddy,"  said  the  dame,  with  alacrity^ 

When  Mrs.  MacDonaid  found  herself  once  more  alone  with 
her  friend  she  said: 

"You  will  have  everything  you  may  require  for  your  com- 
fort in  the  course  of  a  few  hours;  and  you  will  have  no 
more  trouble  from  the  insolence  of  your  attendant.  I  have 
arranged  all  that.  And  now,  my  dear,  I  am  going  to  see  the 
viscount     What  message  have  you  for  him?" 

"None  at  all!  I  hate  him!  he  has  brought  me  to  this! 
^nd  he  deceived  me  about  the  black  woman's  death  and 
nearly  frightened  me  into  illness.  Ah!  the  least!"  exclaimed 
Faustina,  with  a  vehemence  of  spite  that  quite  astounded 
Mrs.  MacDonaid. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  after  she  had  in  some  degree  recovered 
her  composure  and  collected  her  faculties,  "that  there  is  some- 
thing very  dreadful  in  this  arrest  no  one  can  doubt;  some 
charge  of  kidnaping  in  which  you  are  both  said  to  be  im- 
plicated. But  let  us  hope  that  the  charge  will  be  disproved; 
let  us  say  that  it  will;  in  which  case,  will  it  be  well  for 
you  to  quarrel  with  the  viscount  ?  Think  of  it,  and  send  him 
some  kind  message." 

"I  cannot  think,  and  I  will  not  send  him  any  message," 
persisted  Faustina. 

"Then  I  must  think  for  you.  Good-by  for  a  little  while, 
my  pet.  I  will  be  with  you  again  before  I  leave  town,"  said 
Mrs.  MacDonaid,  as  she  left  the  cell. 

She  proceeded  immediately  to  the  warden's  office  and  re- 
quested permission  to  visit  the  Viscount  Vincent  in  his  cell. 

"Auld  Sundie  Gra'ame,"  as  he  was  called,  beckoned  the 
turnkey  of  the  ward  in  which  the  viscount  was  confined,  and 
ordered  him  to  conduct  the  lady  to  Lord  Vincent's  cell. 

The  man  took  down  his  bunch  of  keys,  and,  with  a  bow, 
turned  and  preceded  Mrs.  MacDonaid  upstairs  to  a  corridor 
on  the  second  floor,  flanked  each  side  with  grated  doors. 

The  visitor  followed  her  conductor  up  the  whole  length  of 
this  corridor  to  a  corner  door,  which  he  unlocked  to  admit 
the  visitor.  As  soon  as  she  passed  in  he  locked  the  door  on 
her  and  remained  waiting  on  the  outside. 

Mrs.  MacDonaid  found  herself  in  the  presence  of  Lord 
Vincent. 

As  the  cell  occupied  by  the  viscount  was  in  the  angle  of 
the  building  it  possessed  the  advantage  of  two  small  win- 
dows, one  with  a  southern  and  one  with  a  western  outlook. 


236 


Nemesis. 


^And  the  sun  sJbone  in  it  all  day  long,  giving  it  a  more  cheer- 
ful aspect  than  usually  belongs  to  such  dreary  places. 

It  was  furnished  with  the  usual  hard,  narrow  bed  and  rusty 
iron  stove. 

Besides  this,  it  had  the  unusual  convenience  of  a  chair, 
upon  which  the  viscount  sat,  and  a  table  at  which  he  wrote. 

In  one  comer  of  the  cell  was  old  Cuthbert,  kneeling  down 
over  an  open  trunk  from  which  he  was  unpacking  his  master's 
effects. 

As  Mrs.  MacDonald  entered,  the  viscount  arose,  bowed,' 
and  handed  her  to  the  solitary  chair  with  as  much  courtly 
grace  as  though  he  had  been  doing  the  honors  of  his  own 
drawing-room. 

"I  find  you  more  comfortable,  or  rather,  as  I  should  say, 
less  uncomfortable,  than  I  found  Mrs.  Dugald,  poor  child," 
said  the  visitor,  after  she  sank  into  a  seat. 

"Yes,  thanks  to  the  chance  that  left  my  pocket-book  in  my 
pocket,"  answered  the  prisoner,  with  a  defiant  smile,  as  he 
seated  himself  on  the  side  of  the  cot. 

"I  found  her  with  scarcely  the  decent  necessaries  of  life; 
but  I  have  sent  out  to  purchase  for  her  what  is  needful,  poor 
angel." 

The  smile  died  out  of  the  viscount's  face,  which  became 
pale,  cold,  and  hard  as  marble.    He  made  no  reply. 

"She  sent  you  many  kind  messages,"  began  Mrs.  Mac- 
Donald;  but  the  viscount  interrupted  her. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "I  wish  never  to  hear  that  woman's 
name  mentioned  in  my  hearing  again." 

"Eh !  biit  that  is  strange.  You  will  have  had  a  misunder- 
standing." 

"A  misunderstanding!  I  tell  you,  madam,  that  her  base 
cowardice,  her  shameful  treachery,  and  her  utter  selfishness, 
have  disgusted  me  beyond  measure." 

"Eh,  me!  friends  should  na  quarrel  that  length  either. 
You  have  both  had  your  tempers  severely  tried.  When  you 
get  out  of*this  trouble  you  will  be  reconciled  to  each  other." 

*0!^ever !  I  loathe  the  woman !  And  if  I  were  free  to-day, 
my  "first  act  should  be  to  hurry  to  Castle  Cragg  and  bar  the 
doors  against  her  re-entrance  there.  And  my  second  should 
be  to  send  all  her  traps  after  her." 

Finding  at  length  that  it  was  worse  than  useless  to  speak 
one  word  in  favor  of  Faustina  while  the  viscount  was  in  his 
present  mood  of  mind,  Mi's.  MacDonald  turned  the  conversa- 
tion by: 

"Well,  my  lord,.X  hope  you  have  taken  proper  precautions 
for  your  defense  at  the  preliminary  examination." 

"I  have  engaged  counsel,  who  is  even  now  at  work  upon 
iny  case." 

"And  I  trust,  my  lord,  that  you  have  summoned  ihe  earl. 


Nemesis,  237 

His  personal  presence  here  would  be  a  tower  of  strength  to 
you.'^ 

"I  am  aware  of  that.  I  do  not,  however,  know  exactly 
where  to  put  my  hand  down  upon  my  father.  I  telegraphed 
to  his  London  bankers  to-day  to  know  his  address.  The  an- 
swer came  that  he  was  at  St.  Petersburg  at  the  last  ad- 
vices. I  shall  cause  a  telegram  to  be  sent  to  him  there,  ia 
the  care  of  our  minister.    It  may  or  may  not  find  him." 

"And  now,  my  lord,  what  can  I  do  for  you?"  said  Mrs. 
IMacDonald,  rising. 

"Nothing  whatever,  my  dear  madam,  except  to  return  to 
the  castle  and  remain  there  and  keep  it  warm  for  me  against 
I  get  back,"  said  the  viscount,  courteously,  rising  to  see  his 
visitor  to  the  door  of  the  cell — a  distance  of  eight  feet  from 
the  spot  where  they  stood. 

Mrs.  MacDonald  went  back  to  the  cell  of  Faustina,  where 
she  remained  until  the  comforts  she  had  sent  her  were 
brought  in.  Then  she  superintended  their  arrangement,  and 
even  assisted  with  her  own  hands  in  the  laying  down  of  the 
strip  of  carpet,  the  making  of  the  bed,  and  the  adjusting 
of  the  table. 

"There,  my  dear,"  she  said,  when  all  was  done,  "I  think 
you  are  now  as  tidy  and  as  comfortable  as  it  is  possible  to 
be  in  such  a  place  as  this." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Faustina;  "but  since  you  have  been  in 
here  this  last  time  you  have  not  once  mentioned  Lord  Vin- 
cent's name.  I  suppose  you  have  a  reason  for  your  reticence. 
I  suppose  he  has  been  speaking  ill  of  me !  It  would  be  like 
him  to  bring  me  into  this  trouble  and  then  malign  me!" 

"No,  my  darling,  he  has  not  breathed  a  syllable  of  reproach 
against  you.  He  has  spoken  of  y«u  most  considerately.  He 
has  charged  me  with  many  affectionate  messages  to  you," 
said  this  disinterested  peace-maker,  whose  personal  interests 
were  all  at  stake  in  the  quarrel  between  the  viscount  and  his 
fellow-prisoner. 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  his  messages !  I  hate  the  sound  of 
his  name !  and  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  the  sight  of  his  face ! 
But,  Mrs.  MacDonald,  I  thank  you  for  the  kindness  you 
have  shown  me/'  said  Faustina. 

Mrs.  MacDonald  kissed  her  by  way  of  answer.  And  then 
she  sent  out  and  ordered  a  luxurious  little  dinner,  which 
was  promptly  brought  and  served  up  in  the  cell.  And  after 
dinner  they  had  a  dessert  of  fruit,  and  after  that  co:ffee,  j^st 
as  they  had  been  accustomed  to  have  these  things  at  Castle 
Cragg. 

Coffee-cup  in  hand,  Mrs.  MacDonald  remained  chatting 
with  her  friend  until  the  hour  arrived  for  locking  up  the 
prison  for  the  night. 

Then,  with  a  promise  to  return  the  next  day,  and  to  come 


238 


The  Viscount's  Fall. 


every  day,  she  took  leave  and  departed,  returning  to  Castle 
Cragg  in  the  family  carriage,  driven  by  old  Cuthbert. 

This  day  was  a  fair  sample  of  all  the  days  passed  in  prison 
by  the  Viscount  Vincent  and  Mrs.  Dugald  up  to  the  time 
of  the  preliminary  examination  before  the  magistrate.     - 

The  viscount  occupied  himself  with  writing,  making  notes 
for  his  defense,  or  holding  consultation  with  his  counsel. 
As  he  had  plenty  of  ready  money,  he  did  not  want  any  com- 
fort, convenience,  or  luxury  that  money  could  provide.  The 
earl,  his  father,  however,  did  not  arrive,  and  had  not  even 
been  heard  from. 

Faustina  passed  her  days  in  prison  in  eating,  drinking, 
sleeping,  and  repining.  Mrs.  MacDonald  came  in  every  day 
to  see  her,  and  always  stayed  and  dined  with  her.  Mrs. 
MacDonald  rather  liked  the  daily  airing  she  got  in  her  ride 
to  and  fro  between  the  castle  and  the  prison.  She  liked  also 
the  epicurean  dinners  that  Faustina  would  buy  and  pay  for, 
and  thus  she  was  a  miracle  of  constancy  and  fidelity. 

Old  Dame  Ferguson  was  their  attendant.  She  also  was 
bought  with  money.  And  from  having  been  the  arrogant 
mistress  of  her  prisoner,  she  was  now  the  humble  slave  of  her 
"leddyship," — that  being  the  title  to  which  she  had  advanced 
Mrs.  Dugald. 

Thus  the  days  passed,  bringing  at  length  the  important 
morning-  upon  which  the  preliminary  examination  was  to  be 
held,  in  which  it  was  to  be  decided  whether  these  prisoners 
should  be  honorably  discharged,  or  whether  they  should  be 
committed  to  jail  to  stand  their  trial  upon  the  charge  of 
kidnaping  and  conspiracy. 

The  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux  had  not  yet  been  heard  from ; 
but  the  Viscount  Vincent  had  prepared  himself  with  the 
best  defense  possible  to  be  got  up  in  his  case. 

Judge  Merlin  and  his  witnesses  had  been  duly  notified  to 
appear;  and  they  were  now  in  town,  lodging  at  the  very 
house  from  which  the  prisoners  obtained  their  recherdie 
meals. 


CHAPTER  XXXni. 

THE      viscount's      FALL. 

The  vificount  had  ordered  his  carriage  to  b©  in  readiness 
to  convey  him  to  the  magistrate's  office.  Old  Cuthbert  was 
punctual.  And  accordingly  on  the  morning  in  question  Lord 
Vincent,  and  Faustina,  attended  by  Mrs.  MacDonald,  and  the 
policemen  tliat  had  them  in  custody  entered  the  carriage  and 
were  driven  to  the  town-hall. 

Here  again,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  the  viscount,  in  alight- 
irs  ordered  the  coachman  to  keep  the  carriage  waiting  for 


The  Viscount's  Fall.  239 

tim.  Then  he  and  his  party  passed  through  the  same 
halls  and  ante-chambers,  guarded  by  policemen,  and  entered 
the  magistrate's  office. 

Sir  Alexander  McKetchum  was  already  in  his  seat  on  the 
little  raised  platform. 

His  clerk  sat  at  a  table  below  him. 

On  his  right  hand  stood  several  officers  of  the  law. 

On  his  left  hand  stood  Judge  Merlin,  Ishmael  Worth,  and 
the  witnesses  that  had  been  summoned  for  the  prosecution. 

The  policeman,  McEae,  led  his  charge  up  in  front  of  the 
magistrate,  and  taking  oif  his  hat,  said: 

"Here  are  the  prisoners,  your  worship." 

Lord  Vincent,  as  with  the  purpose  of  proving  himself  a 
gentleman  at  least  in  external  manners,  even  under  the  most 
trying  circumstances,  advanced  and  bowed  to  the  magistrate. 

Sir  Alexander  acknowledged  his  salute  by  a  nod,  and  then 
said : 

"N'oo,  then,  as  ye  are  here,  me  laird,  we  may  as  well  pro- 
ceed wi'  the  investigation." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir ;  I  am  expecting  my  counsel,"  said 
the  viscount. 

"Aweel,  I  suppose  we  maun  wait  a  bit,"  said  the  magis- 
trate. 

But  at  this  moment  the  counsel  for  the  prisoner  hurried 
into  the  -office. 

"We  have  waited  for  you,  Mr.  Bruce,"  said  the  viscount, 
reproachfully. 

"I  am  very  sorry  that  you  should  have  been  obliged  to  do 
so,  my  lord !  But  the  truth  is,  I  have  been  to  the  tele- 
graph office,  to  send  a  message  of  inquiry  at  the  last  moment 
to  your  lordship's  London  bankers,  to  ask  if  the  Earl  of 
Hurstmonceux  had  yet  been  heard  from.  I  waited  for  the 
answer,  which  has  but  just  arrived,  and  which  has  proved 
unsatisfactory." 

"The  earl  has  not  written  to  his  London  bankers,  then?"    . 

"No,  my  lord." 

"Are  you  ready  for  the  examination  V 

"Quite,  my  lord." 

"A%eel,  then,  I  suppose  we  may  proceed,"  said  Sir  Alex- 
ander. 

"At  your  worship's  convenience,"  replied  Mr.  Bruce,  with 
a  bow. 

And  thereupon   the  proceedings  commenced. 

The  magistrate  took  up  the  warrant  that  had  been  issued 
for  the  arrest  of  the  prisoners,  and  read  it  to  them  aloud. 
Then  addressing  them  both,  he  said : 

"Malcolm,  Laird  Vincent,  and  you,  Faustina  Dugaid,  are 
herein  charged  wi'  having  feloniously  conspired  against  the 
guid  character  o'    Claudia,    Viscountess    Vincent,    and    to 


240  The  Viscount's  Fall. 

further  said  conspiracy  wi'  having  abducted  and  sold  into 
slavery  the  bodies  of  three  negroes,  named  herein — Catherine 
Mortimer,  James  Mortimer  and  Sarah  Sims;  whilk  are  felony 
against  the  peace  and  dignity  o'  the  queen's  majesty,  and 
punishable  by  penal  servitude,  according  to  the  statute  in 
sich  cases  made  and  provided.  What  hae  ye  to  say  for  your- 
Bel's  in  answer  to  this  charge?" 

"I  deny  it  in  toto!  And  I  think  it  infamous  that  I 
should  be  called  to  answer  such  an  insulting  charge,"  said 
the  viscount  with  a  fine  assumption  of  virtuous  indignation. 

"And  sae  do  I  think  it  infamous ;  I  agree  wi'  ye  there,  lad ! 
But  as  to  whilk  pairty  the  infamy  attaches  to,  there  we  may 
differ,"  said  the  magistrate,  nodding. 

The  viscount  drew  himself  up  in  haughty  silence,  as 
though  he  disdained  further  reply. 

"And  noo,  Faustina  Dugald,  what  hae  ye  to  say  for  your- 
sel'?" 

"I  did  not  conspire!  I  did  not  abduct!  I  did  not  sell 
into  slavery  any  negro  bodies !  I  did  not  do  anything  wrong ! 
Not  I  myself!"  cried  Faustina,  vehemently. 

"There,  there,  that  will  do!  We  will  hear  the  testimony 
on  this  case.  Let  Ishmael  Worth,  of  Washington,  come  for- 
ward," said  the  magistrate. 

Ishmael  advanced,  bowed  to  the  magistrate,  and  stood  wait- 
ing. V 

"Ross,  administer  the  oath,"  said  the  magistrate. 

The  clerk  took  a  copy  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  and  held  them 
toward  Ishmael,  at  the  same  time  dictating  the  oath,  accord- 
ing to  the  custom  of  such  officials. 

But  Ishmael,  at  the  very  onset,  courteously  interrupted  him 
by  saying  gently: 

"I  am  conscientiously  opposed  to  taking  an  oath;  but  I 
will  make  a  solemn  affirmation  of  the  truth  of  what  I  am 
about  to  state." 

There  was  some  objection  made  by  the  counsel  for  the  pris- 
oners, some  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  clerk,  some  consulta- 
tion with  the  magistrate ;  and  finally  it  was  decided  that  Mr. 
Worth's  solemn  affirmation  should  be  accepted  in  lieu  of  an 
oath. 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Ishmael,  courteously,  "to  have  made  this 
difficulty  about  a  seemingly  small  matter;  but  in  truth,  no 
point  of  conscience  is  really  a  small  matter." 

"Certainly,  no,"  responded  the  magistrate. 

Ishmael  then  made  his  formal  affirmation,  and  gave  in 
his  testimony.  First  of  all,  he  identified  the  negroes — Cath- 
erine Mortimer,  James  Mortimer  and  Sarah  Sims — as  the 
servants,  first  of  Judge  Randolph  Merlin,  of  Maryland,  and 
of  his  daughter,  Claudia,  Lady  Vincent.  Then  he  testified 
to  the  facta  of  the  finding  of  the  negroes,  daoh  in  a  state  of 


The  Viscount's  Fall.  241 

slavery,  in  the  island  of  Cuba ;  their  recovery  by  Judge  Mer- 
lin; and  their  return,  iu  his  company,  to  Scotland. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  evidence,  the  counsel  for  the 
prisoners  made  some  sarcastic  remarks  about  the  reliability 
of  the  testimony  of  a  witness  who  refused  to  make  his  state- 
ment upon  oath;  but  he  was  sharply  rebuked  for  his  pains 
by  the  magistrate. 

"Judge  Eandolph  Merlin  will  please  to  come  forward," 
was  the  next  order  of  the  clerk. 

"I  have  no  conscientious  scruples  about  taking  an  oath, 
though  I  certainly  honor  the  scruples  of  others.  And  I  am 
ready  to  corroborate  upon  oath  the  testimony  of  the  last 
witness,"  said  Judge  Merlin,  advancing  and  standing  before 
the  magistrate. 

The  oath  was  duly  administered  to  him,  and  he  began  his 
statement. 

He  also  identified  the  three  negroes  as  his  own  family  ser- 
vants, who  were  transferred  to  his  daughter's  service  on  the 
occasion  of  her  marriage  with  Lord  Vincent,  and  who  were 
taken  by  her  to  Scotland.  He  likewise  testified  to  the  facts 
of  finding  the  three  negroes  in  the  city  of  Havana  in  a  con- 
dition of  slavery,  and  the  repurchasing  and  transporting  them 
to  Scotland. 

The  counsel  for  the  accused  took  various  exceptions  to  the 
evidence  given  in  by  this  witness;  but  his  exceptions  were 
set  aside  by  the  magistrate  as  vexatious  and  immaterial. 

Then  he  cross-examined  the  witness  as  severely  as  if  the 
case,  instead  of  being  in  a  magistrate's  office,  were  before 
the  Lords'  Commissioners  of  the  Assizes.  But  this  cross- 
examination  only  had  the  effect  of  emphasizing  the  testi- 
mony of  the  witness,  and  impressing  the  facts  more  firmly 
upon  the  mind  of  the  magistrate. 

And  then,  as  the  counsel  could  make  nothing  by  perse- 
verance in  this  course,  he  permitted  the  witness  to  sit  dovim. 

"Catherine  Mortimer  will  come  forward,"  said  the  clerk. 

"That's  me!  I's  got  leabe  to  speak  at  last!"  said  old 
Katie,  with  a  malignant  nod  at  the  accused.  And  she  stepped 
up,  folded  her  arms  upon  her  bosom,  threw  back  her  head, 
and  stood  with  an  air  of  conscious  importance  most  wonder- 
ful to  behold. 

"Your  name  is  Catherine  Mortimer?"  said  the  clerk. 

"Yes,  young  marse — yes,  honey,  dat  my  name — Catherine 
Mortimer.  Which  Catherine  were  de  name  giben  me  by  my 
sponsibles  in  babtism;  and  Mortimer  were  the  name  'f erred 
upon  me  in  holy  matrimony  by  my  late  demented  'panion; 
which  he  was  de  coachman  of  ole  Comedy  Burghe,  as  fought 
de  Britishers  in  the  war  of  eighteen  hundred  and  twelve." 

"What  the  de'il  is  the  woman  talking  about?"  here  put  in 
llihe  magistrate. 


242  The  Viscount^s  Fall. 

"She  is  giving  testimony  in  this  case,"  sarcastically  an- 
swered the  counsel  for  the  accused. 

"!My  good  woman,  we  don't  want  to  hear  any  of  your  pri- 
vate history,  previous  to  the  time  of  your  first  landing  on 
these  shores.  We  want  to  know  what  happened  since.  Your 
name,  you  say,  is  Catherine  Mortimer " 

"Hi,  young  marse,  what  I  tell  you?  Sure  it  is;  Catherine 
Mortimer,  'spectable  widder  'oman,  'cause  Mortimer,  poor 
man,  died  of  'sumption  when  he  was  'bout  forty-five  years  of 
age,  which  I  hab  libbed  ebber  since  in  'spectable  widderhood, 
and  wouldn't  like  to  see  de  man  as  would  hab  do  imperence 
to  ax  me  to  change  my  condition,"  said  Katie,  rolling  her- 
self from  side  to  side  in  the  restlessness  of  her  intense  self- 
consciousness. 

"Catherine  Mortimer,  do  you  understand  the  nature  of  an 
oath?"   inquired  the  clerk. 

"Hi,  young  marse,  what  should  'vent  me  ?  Where  you  think 
I  done  been  libbin  all  my  days?  You  mus'  think  how  I's  a 
barbarium  from  the  Stingy  Isles !"  replied  Katie,  indignantly. 

"I  ask  you — do  you  understand  the  nature  of  an  oath,  and 
I  require  you  to  give  a  straightforward  answer,"  said  the 
clerk. 

"And  I  think  it's  berry  'sultin'  in  you  to  ax  a  'spectable 
colored  'oman  any  such  question !  Do  I  imderstan'  de  natur* 
ob  an  oaf?  You  might  's  well  ax  me  if  I  knows  I's  got  a 
mortal  soul  to  be  save' I  Yes,  I  does  unnerstan'  de  natu'  ob 
an  oaf!  I  knows  how,  if  anybody  takes  a  false  one,  which 
it  won't  be  Catherine  Mortimer,  they'll  go  right  straight 
down  to  de  debbil,  and  serbe  'em  right!" 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  the  clerk.  And  he  put  a  small 
Bible  into  her  hand  and  dictated  the  usual  oath,  which  she 
repeated  with  an  awful  solemnity  of  manner,  that  must  have 
carried  conviction  of  her  perfect  orthodoxy  to  the  minds  of 
the  most  skeptical  cavillers. 

"Your  name,  you  say,  is  Catherine  Mortimer?"  said  the 
clerk,  as  if  requiring  her  to  repeat  this  fact  also  under  oath. 

The  repetition  question  nettled  Katie. 

"My  good  g'acious  alibe,"  she  said,  "what  I  tell  you?  You 
think  you  gwine  catch  me  in  a  lie  by  'peating  of  questions 
ober  and  ober  in  dat  a  way?  Now  look  here,  young  marse! 
I  ain't  been  tellin'  of  you  no  lies,  'cause  x'se  got  too  good  a 
membery,  dere !  So,  now  I  tell  you  ag'in  my  name  is  Cath- 
erine Mortimer,  and  likewise  it  ain't  Gorilla,  as  my  lordship 
and  his  shamwally  used  to  call  me.  I  done  found  out  what 
dat  means  now!  It  means  monkey;  which  is  a  'fernally 
false !  'cause  my  f ambily  ain't  got  no  monkey  blood  in  'em ! 
'Dough  I'd  rather  be  a  monkey  dan  a  lordship,  if  I  covildn't 
be  no  better  lordship  dan  some!"  said  Katie,  with  a  vindic- 
tive nod  of  her  head  toward  the  viscount. 


Tlie  Viscounfs'Tall.  243 

'^hat  is  the  creature  diacoorsing-  anent?"  inquired  tha 
perplexed  magistrate. 

"She  is  giving  in  her  evidence,"  replied  the  counsel  for 
the  accused. 

"You  dry  up !  Who's  you  ?  Mus'  be  my  Jordship's  new 
shamwally  making  yourself  so  smart !  Reckon  I'll  give  evi- 
dence enough  to  fix  you  and  my  lordship  out!"  snapped 
Katie. 

"]S[ow,  then,  tell  us  what  you  know  of  this  case,"  said  the 
clerk.  .^ 

"What  I  know  ob  dis  case  ?  Why,  in  de  f us'  place,  I  know 
how  my  lordship  dere — and  a  perty  lordship  he  is — and  de 
oder  shamwally,  which  I  don't  see  here  present,  and  dat 
white  salt-petre,  ought  ebery  singly  one  ob  dem  to  be  hung 
up  as  high  as  Harem !  Dere !  dfit  what  I  know !  and  I  hope 
you'll  do  it,  old  marse !"  said  Katie,  vindictively. 

"Whisht!  whisht!  my  good  woman!  Ye  are  no  here  to 
pronounce  judgment,  but  to  gie  testimony.  Confine  yourseP 
to  the  facts !"  said  the  magistrate. 

But  this  order  was  more  easily  made  than  obeyed.  It  was 
very  difiicult  for  Katie  to  confine  herself  to  the  statement 
of  facts,  for  the  reason  that  she  seemed  to  imagine  her- 
self the  prosecutor,  witness,  judge,  jury  and  executioner  all 
rolled  into  one. 

It  took  all  the  tact  of  the  clerk  to  get  from  her  what  could 
be  received  as  pure  legal  evidence. 

Katie's  testimony  would  be  nothing  new  to  the  reader. 
Her  statement  under  oath  to  the  magistrate  was  the  same 
in  effect  that  she  had  made  to  Judge  Merlin.  And  although 
it  was  rather  a  rambling  narrative,  mixed  up  with  a  good 
deal  of  bitter  invective  against  the  accused,  and  gratuitous 
advice  to  the  bench,  and  acute  suggestions  of  the  manner 
of  retribution  that  ought  to  be  measured  out  to  the  culprit, 
still  the  shrewd  magistrate  managed  to  get  from  it  a  tolerably 
clear  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  conspiracy  formed  against 
the  honor  of  Lady  Vincent  and  the  motive  for  the  abduction 
of  the  negroes.  And  although  the  counsel  for  the  accused 
labored  hard  to  get  this  evidence  set  aside,  it  was  accepted 
as  good. 

"James  Mortimer,"  called  the  clerk. 

And  Jem  walked  forward  and  stood  respectfully  waiting  to 
be  examined. 

The  clerk,  after  putting  the  same  questions  to  Jem  that 
he  had  put  to  Jem's  mother,  and  receiving  the  most  satis- 
factory answers,  administered  the  usual  oath  and  proceeded 
with  the  examination. 

Jem  said  that  he  was  the  son  of  the  last  witness,  and  he 
corroborated  the  statements  made  by  her,  as  far  as  his  own 
personal  experience  corresponded  with  hers.    And  although 


244  ^^^  Viscount^s  Fall. 

he  was  severely  cross-examined,  he  never  varied  from  his  first 
story,  and  his  testimony  was  held  good. 

"Sarah  Sims,"  was  the  next  called. 

And  Sally  advanced  modestly  and  stood  respectfully  be- 
fore the  magistrate. 

Having  satisfactorily  answered  the  preliminary  questions 
that  were  put  to  her,  she  took  the  prescribed  oath  with  a  deep 
reverence  of  manner  that  prepossessed  every  one,  except  the 
accused  and  their  counsel,  in  her  favor. 

And  then  she  gave  her  testimony  in  a  clear,  simple,  con- 
cise manner,  that  met  the  approval  of  all  who  heard  her. 

The  counsel  for  the  accused  cross-examined  her  with  in- 
genuity, but  without  success. 

Sally's  testimony  was  decidedly  the  most  conclusive  of  any 
given  by  the  three  negroes.  And  she  was  allowed  to  sit 
down. 

Then  the  counsel  for  the  accused  arose  and  made  a  speech, 
in  which  he  ingeniously  sought  to  do  away  with  the  effect 
of  all  the  evidence  that  had  been  given  in  against  the  pris- 
oners. He  took  exception  to  Ishmael's  evidence  because  Mr. 
Worth  had  declined  to  give  it  under  oath ;  to  Judge  Merlin's, 
because,  he  said,  that  ancient  man  was  so  well  stricken  in 
years  as  to  be  falling  into  his  dotage;  to  old  Katie's,  because 
most  decidedly  he  declared  she  was  totally  unreliable,  being 
half  monkey,  half  maniac,  and  whole  knave;  to  Jim's,  be- 
cause he  averred  him  to  be  wholly  under  the  influence  of 
others;  to  Sally's  for  the  same  reason.  It  would  be  mon- 
strous, he  said,  to  send  a  nobleman  and  a  lady  to  trial  upon 
such  evidence  as  had  been  given  by  such  witnesses  as  had 
appeared  there.  And  he  ended  by  demanding  that  his  clients 
should  be  instantly  and  honorably  discharged  from  custody, 
and  particularly  that  they  should  not  be  remanded. 

And  he  sat  down. 

"Dinna  ye  fash  yersel',  laddie!  I  hae  na  the  least  in- 
tention to  remaund  the  accused.  I  s'all  commit  them  for 
trial,"  said  the  magistrate.  Then  looking  down  upon  his 
clerk,  he  said: 

"Ross,  mon,  mak'  out  the  warrants." 

A  perfect  storm  of  remonstrance,  strange  to  witness  in  a 
magistrate's  office,  arose. 

The  lawyer  sprang  upon  his  feet  and  vehemently  opposed 
the  committal. 

Lord  Vincent  indignantly  exclaimed  against  the  outrage 
of  sending  a  nobleman  of  the  house  of  Hurstmonceux  to 
trial. 

Faustina  went  into  hysterics,  and  was  attended  to  by  Mrs, 
'MacDonald. 

Meanwhile  the  clerk  coolly  made  out  the  warrants  and 
placed  then)  in  the  hands  of  McEae  for  execution.    That 


The  Fate  of  tlie  Viscount.  245 

prompt  policeman  proceeded  to  take  possession  ©f  his  pris* 
oners. 

But  the  storm  increased;  Faustina's  screams  woke  the 
welkin;  Lord  Vincent's  loud  denunciation  accompanied  her 
in  bass  keys;  the  lawyer's  wild  expostulations  and  gesticula- 
tions arose  above  all. 

Sir  Alexander  had  borne  all  this  tempestuous  opposition 
very  patiently  at  first;  but  the  patience  of  the  most  long- 
suffering  man  may  give  out.    Sir  Alexander's  did. 

"McRae,  remove  the  prisoners.  And,  laddie,"  he  said  to 
the  denunciatory  lawyer,  "gin  ye  dinna  hand  your  tongue, 
I'll  commit  yoursel'  for  contempt!" 

Lord  Vincent,  seeing  that  all  opposition  must  be  worse 
than  vain,  quietly  yielded  the  point  and  followed  his  con- 
ductor. But  Faustina's  animal  nature  got  the  ascendency, 
and  she  resisted,  fought  and  screamed  like  a  wild  cat.  It  took 
half  a  dozen  policemen  to  put  her  into  the  carriage  and 
then  the  handcuffs  had  to  be  put  on  her. 

As  soon  as  quiet  was  restored  another  case  was  called  on. 
It  was  that  of  Frisbie,  the  ex-valet,  charged  with  the  mur- 
der of  Ailsie  Dunbar. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE     FATE     OF     THE     VISCOUNT. 

When  the  carriage  containing  the  prisoners  reached  the 
jail,  they  were  taken  out  to  be  conducted  to  the  warden's 
office. 

The  viscount,  who  was  in  a  mood  of  suppressed  fury,  was 
attended  by  Policeman  McRae  and  followed  by  old  Cuthbert, 
broken-hearted  by  the  dishonor  of  his  master. 

Faustina,  who  had  raged  herself  into  a  state  of  exhaus- 
tion, and  consequently  of  quietude,  was  attended  by  Police- 
man Christie  and  supported  by  Mrs.  MacDonald,  who  ten- 
derly soothed  and  flattered  her. 

It  was  a  busy  day  in  the  warden's  office,  and  the  warden 
had  but  little  time  to  bestow  on  these  interesting  prison- 
ers. ■ 

"And  sae  they  ha'e  com  knitted  ye  for  trial,  me  laird,  mair's 
the  pity ;  and  the  puir  lassie,  too ;  me  heart  is  sair  for  her," 
said  Auld  Saundie  Gra'ame,  as  they  were  led  up  to  his  desk 
to  have  their  names  re-entered  upon  the  prison-books. 

"It  was  a  most  unwarrantable  proceeding!  a  monstrous 
abuse  of  office !  an  outrage  that  should  be  punished  by  imme- 
diate impeachment!"  burst  forth  the  viscount,  in  a  fury. 

"As  to  that,  me  laird,  I  ha'e  never  yet  seen  the  prisoner 
enter  these  wa's  wi'  ony  verra  great  esteem  for  the  authori- 
ties that  sent  him  here,"  dryly  replied  Auld  Saundie. 


2a6  The  Fate  of  tlie  Viscount 

Then  turning  to  an  uuder-warden,  he  said: 

"Yf»'ll  convey  the  prisoners  back  to  the  cells  occupied 
by  them  before." 

And  Faustina  was  carried  back  to  the  women's  ward,  fol- 
lowed by  the  sympathizing  Mrs.  MacDonald,  who  promised 
to  remain  with  her  until  the  hour  of  closing  up. 

And  the  viscount,  attended  by  Cuthbert,  was  conducted 
to  his  corner  cell,  there  to  abide  until  the  day  of  trial. 

Old  Cuthbert  remained  with  his  master  until  he  was  sum- 
moned to  drive  Mrs.  MacDonald  back  to  the  castle. 

Several  days  passed.  Every  morning  Mrs.  MacDonald, 
driven  by  Cuthbert  in  the  family  carriage,  came  to  town,  to 
spend  the  day  in  the  cell  with  Faustina,  while  Cuthbert  re- 
mained in  attendance  upon  the  viscount.  And  every  evening 
she  returned  to  the  castle. 

The  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux  did  not  come.  But  news  at 
length  came  of  him.  II  is  bankers  wrote  that  he  was  out  on 
his  yacht,  his  exact  latitude  being  unknown. 

Lord  Vincent,  now  that  he  was  fully  committed  for  trial, 
really  did  not  seem  to  be  anxious  for  his  father's  return. 
Perhaps  he  would  rather  not  have  met  the  earl  under  the 
present  circumstances.  He  held  daily  consultations  with  his 
counsel.  These  were  entirely  confidential.  Being  assured  by 
Mr.  Bruce  that  it  was  essentially  necessary  the  counsel  should 
be  in  possession  of  all  the  facts,  the  prisoner  made  a  toler- 
ably clean  breast  of  it,  at  least  so  far  as  the  abduction  of  the 
negroes  was  concerned;  he  exercised  some  little  reticence  in 
the  matters  of  his  relations  with  Faustina  and  his  conspiracy 
against  Lady  Vincent. 

Mr.  Bruce  of  course  put  the  fairest  construction  upon 
everything;  but  still  he  could  not  help  feeling  the  darkest 
misgivings  as  to  the  result  of  the  approaching  trial.  And  the 
viscount,  rendered  keenly  observant  by  intense  anxiety,  de- 
tected these  doubts  in  the  mind  of  his  counsel,  and  became 
daily  more  despairing. 

He  looked  forward  to  the  dishonor  of  a  public  trial  with 
burning  indignation;  to  the  possible,  nay  probable,  convic- 
tion and  sentence  that  might  follow  with  shrinking  dread, 
and  to  the  execution  of  that  sentence  with  stony  horror. 

Penal  servitude  !  Great  heaven !  penal  servitude  for  him, 
80  high-born,  so  fastidious,  so  luxurious  in  all  his  habits! 
Penal  servitude  for  him,  the  Viscount  Vincent  1 

He  had  often  made  one  of  a  party  of  sight-seers,  risitingr 
the  prisons,  the  hulks  and  quarries,  where  the  prisoners  were 
confined  at  work.  He  had  seen  them  in  the  coarse  prison* 
garb,  working  in  chains,  imder  the  broiling  sun  of  summer, 
and  under  the  bitter  cold  of  winter.  He  had  seen  them  at 
their  loathsome  meals  and  in  their  stifling  sleeping-pens.  He 
had  gazed  upon  them  with  eyes  of  haughty,  cold,  unsympa* 


Tlie  Fate  of  the  Viscount.  547 

th'zing  curiosity.  To  him  and  his  friends  they  formed  but 
a  spectacle  of  interest  or  amusement,  like  a  drama. 

And  now  to  think  that  he  might,  nay,  probably  would,  soon 
make  one  of  their  shameful  number! 

The  Viscount  Vincent  working  in  chains !  Gazed  at  by  his 
former  companions !    Pointed  out  to  curious  strangers ! 

That  was  the  appalling  picture  forever  present  to  his  im- 
agination ! 

How  bitterly  he  deplored  the  crimes  that  had  exposed  him 
to  this  fate!  How  deeply  he  cursed  the  siren  whose  fatal 
beauty  had  lured  him  tg  sin!  How  passionately  he  longed 
for  death,  as  the  only  deliverance  from  the  memory  of  the 
past,  the  terrors  of  the  present,  the  horrors  of  the  future. 

Day  and  night  that  appalling  future  stared  him  in  the 
face! 

Day  and  night  that  picture  of  himself  working  in  chains, 
pointed  out,  stared  at,  was  before  his  mind's  eyes. 

By  day  it  obtruded  between  him  and  the  face  of  any  visi- 
tor that  might  be  with  him.  Even  when  in  consultation  with 
his  counsel  his  mind  would  wander  from  the  subject  in  hand, 
and  his  imagination  would  be  drawn  away  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  that  dread  pictm*e! 

By  night  it  would  rise  up  in  the  darkness  and  nearly  drive 
him  mad! 

He  could  not  eat,  he  could  not  sleep.  He  passed  his  days 
in  pacing  to  and  fro  in  his  narrow  cell,  and  his  nights  in 
tossing  about  upon  his  restless  bed.  His  sufferings  were 
pitiable,  and  his  worst  enemy  must  have  felt  sorry  for  him. 

His  condition  moved  the  compassion  of  the  warden,  and 
every  indulgence  that  was  in  the  power  of  old  Saundie  to 
bestow  was  granted  to  him.  And  as  he  was  not  yet  absolutely 
convicted,  but  only  waiting  his  trial,  these  indulgences  were 
considerable.  Old  Cuthbert  was  allowed  to  visit  him  freely 
during  the  day,  and  to  bring  him  anything  in  the  way  of 
food,  drink,  clothing,  books,  stationery,  etc.,  that  he  required. 
And  very  little  supervision  was  exercised  over  these  matters. 

Meantime  as  the  Assizes  were  sitting,  and  the  docket  was 
not  very  full,  it  was  thought  that  the  trial  would  soon  come 
on.    "" 

On  the  Wednesday  following  the  committal  of  the  viscounty 
the  trial  of  the  murderer,  Frisbie,  which  stood  before  that  of 
his  master  on  the  docket,  did  come  on.  The  detective  police 
had  been  busy  during  tlae  interval  between  Frisbie's  arrest 
and  arraignment,  and  they  had  succeeded  in  collecting  a  mass 
of  evidence  and  a  number  of  witnesses  besides  old  Katie. 

Frisbie,  however,  was  defended  by  the  best  counsel  that 
mere  money  could  procure.  There  are  many  among  the  best 
lawyers  who  will  not  take  up  a  bad  ease  at  any  price.  But 
3Frisbie,  as  I  said,  had  thft  best  among  the  imscrupulous  that 


24^ 


THe  Fate  of  the  Viscount. 


money  could  buy.  His  master  of  course  paid  the  fees.  His 
counsel  very  gratuitously  instructed  him  to  plead  "Not 
Guilty,"  and  of  course  he  did  plead  "Not  Guilty."  And  his 
counsel  did  the  best  thing  they  could  to  establish  his  inno- 
cence. But  the  evidence  against  him  was  conclusive.  And 
on  the  morning  of  the  second  day  of  his  trial,  Frisbie  was 
found  guilty  and  sentenced  to  death.  But  a  short  period 
between  sentence  and  execution  was  then  allowed  in  Scotland. 
The  execution  of  Frisbie  was  fixed  for  the  Monday  following 
his  conviction. 

From  the  hour  that  Frisbie  had  been  brought  to  trial  the 
viscount  had  experienced  the  most  vehement  accession  of 
anxiety.  He  refused  all  food  during  the  day,  and  he  paced 
the  floor  of  his  cell  all  night.  And  well  he  might!  for  he 
knew  that  on  that  trial  revelations  would  be  made  under  oath 
that  would  not  tend  to  whiten  Lord  Vincent's  character. 

On  Thursday  noon  Mr.  Bruce  entered  his  cell. 

"Is  the  trial "  began  the  viscount;  but  he  could  not 

get  on;  his  intense  emotion  choked  him. 

"The  trial  is  over;  the  jury  brought  in  their  verdict  half 
an  hour  ago,"  replied  the  counsel,  gravely. 

"And  Frisbie  is —  For  heaven's  sake,  speak!"  gasped  the 
viscount. 

"Frisbie  is  convicted !"  said  the  lawyer. 

Lord  Vincent,  pale  before,  turned  paler  still  as  he  sank 
into  the  chair,  and  gazed  upon  the  lawyer,  who  was  greatly 
wondering  at  the  excessive  emotion  of  his  client. 

"When  is  the  execution  fixed  to  take  place?" 

"On  Monday,  of  course." 

"Is  there — can  there  be  any  hope  of  a  pardon  for  him  ?" 

"Not  the  shadow  of  a  shade  of  hope!" 

"Or — of  a  commutation  of  his  sentence?" 

"It  is  madness  to  think  of  it !" 

"Is  there  no  chance  of  a  respite  ?" 

"I  tell  you  it  is  madness,  and  worse  than  madness,  to  im- 
agine such  a  thing  as  a  pardon,  a  commutation,  or  even  a 
respite  to  that  wretch!  The  crime  brought  home  to  him 
was  one  of  the  darkest  dye — the  base  assassination  of  the  girl 
that  loved  and  trusted  and  was  true  to  him !  To  fancy  any 
mercy  possible  for  that  miscreant,  except  it  be  the  infinite, 
all-embracing,  all-pardoning  mercy  of  God,  is  simply  frenzy!" 

"And  the  execution  is  to  take  place  on  Monday!  The 
time  is  very  short  I"  said  the  viscount,  falling  into  a  reverie. 

The  lawyer  begen  to  speak  of  the  viscount's  own  affairs ;  he 
mentioned  several  circumstances  connected  with  the  vis- 
count's case  that  had  become  known  to  himself  only  through 
the  testimony  of  certain  witnesses  on  Frisbie's  trial,  and  he 
wished  to  consult  the  viscount  upon  them. 

"BiUt  Lord  Vincent  seemed  to  act  very  strangely;  ho  wafl 


Tlie  Fate  of  the  Visco^aat.  249 

absent-minded,  stupid,  distracted — in  fact,  altogether  unfit 
for  consultation  with  his  counsel. 

And  so,  after  a  few  unsuccessful  attempts  to  rouse  him, 
gain  his  attention  and  fix  it  upon  the  subject  at  issue,  the 
lawyer  arose,  said  that  he  would  call  again  the  next  morning, 
and  bowed  and  left  the  cell. 

The  shame  the  viscount  suffered  was  in  the  knowledge  of 
the  dishonorable  facts  relating  to  himself  that  had  been 
brought  to  light  on  Frisbie's  trial ;  the  great  dread  he  felt  was 
that  Frisbie,  at  the  near  approach  of  death,  would  open  his 
heart  and  make  a  full  confession ;  and  his  horrible  certainty 
was  that  such  a  confession  was  all  that  was  wanted  to  insure 
his  own  conviction! 

Again  on  this  Thursday  night  he  could  not  sleep,  but 
paced  the  narrow  limits  of  his  cell  the  whole  night  through, 
in  unutterable  agony  of  mind.  Never  was  the  appalling  vis- 
ion of  himself  in  the  shameful  prison  garb,  working  ia 
chains,  pointed  out  as  an  interesting  object  and  gazed  at  by 
curious  strangers,  so  awfully  vivid  as  iipon  this  night. 

The  next  morning,  when  his  old  servant  Cuthbert  entered 
the  cell  as  usual,  he  was  frightened  at  his  master's  dreadful 
looks. 

"Will  I  call  a  doctor  to  your  lairdship?"  inquired  the  old 
man. 

"JSTo,  Cuthbert.  I  am  not  ill.  I  am  only  suffering  for 
want  of  rest.  I  have  not  been  able  to  sleep  since  Frisbie's  ar- 
raignment.   He  is  convicted,  you  know." 

"Ay,  me  laird,  I  ken  a'  anent  it!  My  brither  Kandy  was 
on  the  jury,  and  he  tauld  me  it  a'  ower  a  pot.o'  ale  in  the 
tap-room  o'  the  'Highlander,'  where  I  was  resting  while  my 
horses  fed,"  said  the  old  man,  gravely. 

A  dark,  crimson  flush  overspread  the  face  of  the  viscount  I 
Cuthbert  had  heard  all  about  it !  Cuthbert  had  heard,  then ; 
those  disgraceful  revelations  concerning  himself.  He  need 
not  have  blushed  before  Cuthbert.  That  loyal-hearted  old 
servant  could  not  have  been  brought  to  believe  such  evil  of 
his  beloved  young  master,  aS  all  that  came  to.  And  his  next 
words  proved  this. 

"There  must  'a'  been  a  deal  o'  fause  swearing,  me  laird," 
he  said. 

The  viscount  looked  up  and  caught  at  the  words. 

"Yes,  Cuthbert,  a  great  deal  of  false  swearing,  indeed,  as 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  in  that  testimony." 

"Ay,  me  laird!  I  tauld  them  so  in  the  tap-room.  There 
was  a  wheeh  idle  loons  collected  there,  drinking  and  smoking 
and  talking  anent  the  business  o'  their  betters.  And  they 
were  a'  unco'  free  in  their  comments.  But  when  they  men- 
tioned your  lairdship's  name  in  connection  wi'  sic  iofamy-f  I 


250  The  Fate  of  the  Viscount. 

tauld  them  a'  weel  that  they  were  a  pack  o'  fause  knaves 
to  believe  sic  le^s." 

"Yes.  The  execution  ts  to  take  place  on  Monday  morn- 
ing, Cuthbert." 

"Ay,  me  laird !  I  hope  the  puir,  sinf u'  lad  will  mak'  guid 
use  o'  the  short  time  left  him  and  repent  0'  a'  his  misdeeds, 
and  seek  his  peace  wi^  his  Maker,"  said  the  old  man,  solemnly. 

The  viscount  heaved  a  heavy  sigh!  a  sigh  that  seemed 
laden  with  a  weight  of  agony. 

"Cuthbert,"  he  said,  "you  know  that  I  may  not  go  to 
see  the  condemned  man,  being  a  prisoner  myself;  but  you, 
being  a  fellow-servant,  and  at  liberty,  may  be  permitted  to 
do  so.  I  wish  to  charge  you  with  a  note  to  deliver  to  him; 
but  you  must  deliver  it  secretly,  Cuthbert!  secretly,  mind 
you!" 

"Yes,  me  laird." 

The  viscount  sat  down  to  his  little  table  and  wrote  the 
following  note: 

"Frisbie — While  there  is  life  there  is  hop* ;  therefore  make 
no  confession;  for  if  you  do,  that  confession  will  destroy 
your  last  possibility  of  pardon  or  commutation. 

"Vincent." 

He  folded  and  sealed  this  note  and  delivered  it  to  Cuth- 
bert,   saying : 

"Conceal  it  somewhere  about  your  person,  and  go  to  the 
warden's  office  and  aek  leave  to  see  your  fellow-servant,  and 
no  doubt  you  will  get  it.  And  when  you  see  him  deliver  this 
note  secretly,  as  I  told  you." 

"Verra  weel,  me  laird,"  said  the  old  man,  going  and  knock- 
ing on  the  door  of  the  cell  to  be  let  out. 

The  turnkey  opened  the  door,  released  him,  and  locked  it 
again. 

And  the  viscount,  left  alone,  paced  up  and  down  the  floor 
in  unutterable  distress  of  mind. 

An  hour  passed  and  then  Cuthbert  re-entered  the  cell, 
wearing  a  frightened  visage. 

"Well,  Cuthbert!  well!  did  you  find  an  opportunity  of  de- 
livering the  note?" 

"Yes,  m©  laird,  I  did,"  said  the  old  man,  hesitatingly. 

"Secretly?" 

"Y-yes,  me  laird!" 

The  viscount  looked  relieved  of  a  great  fear.  He  saw  the 
great  distuj-bance  of  his  servant's  face;  but  ascribed  it  to 
the  effect  of  his  interview  with  the  condemned  man,  and 
sympathy  for  his  awful  position,  and  he  inquired: 

"How  did  Frisbie  look,  Cuthbert?" 

*'Like  a  ghaist;  na  less!  pale  as  deeth;  trembling  like  a. 
leaf  about  to  fa' !  and  waefully  distx-aught  in  his  mind  I" 


The  ^te  of  the  Viscount.  SiSi 

"Did  he  get  an  opportunity  of  reading  my  note  while  you 
Were  with  him  ?" 

"Oh,  me  laird,  I  maun  just  tell  you !  I  hope  there  was  na 
©ny  great  secret  in  that  same  note." 

The  viscount  started  and  stared  wildly  at  the  speaker, 
but  then  everything  alarmed  Lord  Vincent  now. 
-*'What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  me  laird!  I  watched  my  opportunity,  and  I  gi'e 
him  the  note  in  secrecy,  as  your  lairdship  tauld  me;  and 
I  stooped  and  whispered  till  him  in  his  lugs  to  keep  the  note 
till  he  was  his  lane,  and  read  it  then.  But  the  doitted  fule, 
gude  forgi'e  me,  didna  seem  to  comprehend;  but  was  loike 
ane  dazed.  He  just  lookit  at  me  and  then  proceeded  to  open 
the  note  before  my  face.  Whereupon  the  turnkey  lad  takit 
it  out  fra  his  hand,  saying  that  the  prisoner,  being  a  con- 
demned man,  maunna  receive  ony  faulded  paper  that  hadna 
passit  under  the  observation  of  the  governor,  because  sic 
faulded  packets  might  contain  strychnine  or  other  subtle 
poison.  And  sae  he  took  possession  o'  your  note,  me  laird, 
before  the  prisoner  could  read  a  word  of  it;  and  said  he  maun 
carry  it  to  the  governor,  whilk  I  suppose  he  did !" 

To  see  the  consternation  of  the  viscount  was  dreadful. 

"Oh,  Cuthbert,  Cuthbert,  the  cowardice  of  that  miserable 
wretch  will  ruin  me !"  he  exclaimed,  bitterly. 

"Ou,  me  laird,  dinna  rail  at  the  puir  sinfu'  soul  for  cow- 
ardice. Sure  mesel'  would  be  a  coward  gin  I  had  the  waefu' 
woodie  before  my  ees,  'Deed,  me  laird,  and  me  heart  is  sair 
for  the  mischance  o'  the  note." 

"It  (.annot  be  mended  now,  Cuthbert." 

The  time  was  drawing  near  for  the  closing  of  the  prison 
doors,  and  the  old  man  took  a  dutiful  leave  of  his  master 
and  departed. 

On  his  way  down-stairs  he  was  called  into  the  warden's 
office,  and  while  there  he  was  severely  reprimanded  for  con- 
veying letters  to  the  convict,  and  forbidden  under  pain  of 
punishment  to  repeat  the  offense.  The  old  man  bore  the  re- 
buke very  patiently,  and  at  the  lecture  that  was  bestowed 
upon  him,  he  humbly  bowed  and  took  his  leave. 

This  night  the  viscount,  exhausted  by  long  vigilance  and 
fasting  and  by  intense  anxiety,  threw  himself  upon  his  bed 
and  slept  for  a  few  hours.  The  next  morning,  Saturday,  in 
his  restless  trouble  he  arose  early.  And  in  the  course  of  the 
day  he  questioned  every  one  who  came  into  his  cell  concern- 
ing the  state  of  mind  of  the  condemned  man. 

Some  could  give  him  no  news  at  all;  others  could  tell  him 
something;  but  they  differed  in  their  accounts  of  Frisbie — 
one  saying  that  he  had  asked  for  the  prison  chaplain,  who 
had  gone  in  to  him;  a  second  that  he  was  very  contrite;  a 
third  that  he  wa?  only  terribly  frightened ;  a  fourth  that  h** 


253  The  I^ate  of  the  Viscount. 

was  firm  as  a  rock,  declined  to  confess  his  guilt  and  persisted 
in  declaring  his  innocence. 

The  viscount  tried  to  believe  the  last  statement. 

The  miserable  day  passed  without  bringing  anything  more 
satisfactory  to  Lord  Vincent.  And  the  night  that  followed 
was  a  sleepless  one  to  him. 

Sunday  came;  the  last  day  of  life  that  was  left  to  the 
wretched  valet.  On  Sunday  it  was  obligatory  on  all  the  pris- 
oners confined  in  that  jail  to  attend  divine  service  in  the 
prison  chapel.  They  had  no  choice  in  this  matter;  unless 
they  were  confined  to  their  beds  by  illness  they  were  obliged 
to  go. 

On  this  particular  Sunday  no  prisoner  felt  disposed  to 
place  himself  on  the  sick-list.  Quite  the  contrary.  For,  on 
the  other  hand,  many  prisoners  who  were  really  ill,  in  the 
infirmary,  declared  themselves  well  enough  to  get  up  and  go 
to  chapel. 

The  reason  of  this  sudden  zeal  in  the  performance  of  their 
religious  duties  was  simply  this : — The  "condemned  sermon," 
as  it  was  called,  was  to  be  preached  that  day.  And  the  con- 
demned man,  who  was  to  be  executed  in  the  morning,  was 
to  be  present  under  guard.  And  people  generally  have  a  mor- 
bid curiosity  to  gaze  upon  a  man  who  is  doomed  to  death. 

Lord  Vincent  was  ill  enough  to  be  exempt  from  the  duty 
of  appearing  in  the  chapel,  and  haughty  enough  to  recoil 
from  mixing  publicly  with  his  fellow-prisoners;  but  he  was 
intensely  anxious  to  see  Frisbie  and  judge  for  himself,  from 
the  man's  appearance,  whether  he  seemed  likely  to  make  a 
confession. 

And  so,  when  the  turnkey  whose  duty  it  was  to  attend  to 
this  ward  came  around  to  unlock  the  doors  and  marshal  the 
prisoners  in  order  to  march  them  to  chapel.  Lord  Vincent, 
without  demur,  fell  into  rank  and  went  with  them. 

The  chapel  was  small,  and  the  prisoners  present  on  this 
day  filled  it  full.  The  set  to  which  Lord  Vincent  belonged 
were  marched  in  among  the  last.  Consequently  they  sat  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  chapel. 

Lord  Vincent's  height  enabled  him  to  look  over  the  head3 
of  most  persons  present.  And  he  looked  around  for  Frisbie. 
At  length  he  found  him. 

The  condemned  pew  was  immediately  before  the  pulpit, 
facing  the  preacher.  In  it  sat  Frisbie,  unfettered,  but  guard- 
ed by  two  turnkeys,  one  of  whom  sat  on  each  side  of  him. 
But  Frisbie's  back  was  toward  Lord  Vincent,  and  so  the  vis- 
count could  not  possibly  get  a  glimpse  of  the  expression  of 
his  face. 

He  next  looked  to  see  if  he  could  find  the  selfish  vixen 
who  had  lured  him  to  his  ruin,  and  whom  he  now  hated 
with  all  the  power  of  hatred  latent  in  his  soul.      But  a  par- 


The  I^ate  of  tlie  Viscount.  253 

tition  eight  feet  high,  running  nearly  the  whole  length  of 
the  chapel  and  stopping  only  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
pulpit,  separated  the  women's  from  the  men's  side  of  the 
church,  so  that  even  if  she  had  been  present  he  could  not 
have  seen  her. 

"The  wages  of  sin  is  death." 

Such  was  the  text  from  which  the  sermon  was  preached 
to  the  prisoners  that  day. 

But  the  viscount  heard  scarcely  one  word  of  it.  Intensely 
absorbed  in  his  own  reflections,  he  paid  no  attention  to  the 
services.  At  their  close  he  bent  his  eyes  again  upon  the 
form  of  Frisbie. 

His  perseverance  was  rewarded.  As  the  prisoners  arose  to 
leave  the  chapel,  Frisbie  also  arose  and  turned  around.  And 
the  viscount  got  a  full  view  of  his  face — a  pale,  wild,  despair- 
ing face. 

"He  is  desperately  frightened,  if  he  is  not  penitent !  That 
is  the  face  of  a  man  who,  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  saving 
his  life,  will  deny  his  guilt  until  the  rope  is  around  his  neck, 
and  then,  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  saving  his  soul,  confess  his 
crime  under  the  gallows,"  said  the  viscount  to  himself,  as 
he  was  marched  back  to  his  cell. 

In  that  the  viscount  wronged  Frisbie.  The  great  adver- 
sary himself  is  said  to  be  not  so  black  as  he  is  painted. 

That  same  night,  that  last  solemn  night  of  the  criminal's 
life,  the  prison  chaplain  stayed  with  the  wretched  man.  Mr. 
Godfree  was  a  fervent  Christian;  one  whose  faith  could  movo 
mountains;  one  who  would  never  abandon  a  soul,  however 
sinful,  to  sink  into  perdition  while  that  soul  remained  in  its 
mortal  tenement.  Such  men  seem  to  have  a  Christ-conferred 
power  to  save  to  the  uttermost. 

He  kept  close  to  Frisbie;  he  would  not  permit  himself  to 
be  discouraged  by  the  sinfulness,  the  cowardice  and  the  utter 
baseness  of  the  poor  wretch.  He  pitied  him ;  talked  to  him ; 
prayed  with  him. 

With  all  his  deep  criminality,  Frisbie  was  certainly  not 
hardened.  He  listened  to  the  exhortations  of  the  chaplain, 
he  wept  bitterly,  and  joined  in  the  prayers. 

And  in  the  silence  of  that  night  he  made  a  full  confession 
to  the  chaplain,  with  the  request  that  it  might  be  made  pub- 
lie  the  next  day. 

He  confessed  to  the  murder  of  Ailsie  Dunbar;  but  he  de- 
nied that  the  crime  had  been  premeditated,  as  it  had  been 
made  to  appear  at  the  trial.  He  killed  her  in  a  fit  of  passion, 
he  said;  and  he  had  never  known  an  hour's  peace  since.  Re- 
morse for  the  crime  and  terror  for  its  consequences  had 
made  his  life  wretched.  His  master.  Lord  Vincent,  he  said, 
had  been  an  eye-witness  to  the  murder,  but  had  withheld 
himself  frbm  denouncing'  h"m  because  he  wanted  to  us©  tho 


254  ^'^^  rvxecuuon. 

power  he  had  thus  obtained  to  compel  him  to  enter  a  coa 
epiracy  against  Lady  Vincent. 

And  here  followed  a  full  account  of  the  plot  and  its  execu^ 
tion, 

Frisbie  went  on  to  say  that  nothing  but  the  terrors  of 
death  induced  him  to  become  a  party  to  that  base  conspiracy 
against  the  honor  of  a  noble  lady,  and  that  he  had  suffered 
almost  as  much  remorse  for  his  crimes  against  Lady  Vincent 
as  for  his  murder  of  Ailsie  Dunbar. 

All  this  Mr.  Godfree  took  down  in  short-hand  from  the 
lips  of  the  conscience-stricken  man. 

And  then,  as  Frisbie  expressed  the  desire  to  spend  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night  in  devotion,  Mr.  Godfree  decided  to  re- 
main with  him.  He  read  aloud  to  the  convict  portions  of 
Scripture  suited  to  his  sad  case,  and  he  sang  a  consoling 
hymn. 

Oh,  strangely  sounded  that  sacred  song  arising  in  the  deep 
silence  of  the  condemned  cell.     So  the  night  passed  there. 

But  how  did  it  pass  in  the  viscount's  cell?  Sleeplessly, 
anxiously,  wretchedly,  until  long  after  midnight,  when  he 
fell  asleep.  He  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  sawing,  drag- 
ging and  hammering,  that  seemed  to  be  in  the  prison  yard 
beneath  his  windows.  It  continued  a  long  time,  and  ef- 
fectually banished  slumber  from  his  weary  eyes. 

What  could  they  be  doing  at  that  unusual  hour  ?  he  asked 
himself.  And  he  crept  from  his  bed  and  peeped  through  the 
grated  window.  But  the  night  was  overclouded  and  deeply 
dark  with  that  darkness  that  precedes  the  dawn.  He  could 
see  nothing,  but  he  could  hear  the  sound  of  voices  amid  the 
noise  of  work;  although  the  words,  at  the  distance  his  window 
was  from  the  ground,  were  inaudible. 

He  lay  down  again  no  wiser  than  he  had  risen  up.  After 
an  hour  or  two  the  noise  ceased,  and  he  dropped  into  that 
sleep  of  prostration  that  more  resembles  worn-out  nature's 
Bwooning  than  healthy  slumber. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

THE  EXECUTION. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  the  viscount  was  again 
awakened,  and  this  time  by  the  solemn  tolling  of  the  prison 
bell. 

He  sprang  out  of  bed  and  looked  out  of  the  window  and  re- 
coiled in  horror. 

There  in  the  angle  of  the  prison  yard  stood  the  gallows, 
grimly  painted  black.  That  was  what  the  carpenters  had 
been  at  work  on  all  night. 

And  the  tolling  of  the  prison  bell  warned  him  that  the  laat 


The  Execution.  25$ 

tour  of  the  condemned  man  had  come !  that  he  was  even  now 
leaving  his  cell  for  the  gallows.  Lord  Vincent  staggered  back 
and  fell  upon  his  bed.  In  the  fate  of  Frisbie  he  seemed  to 
feel  a  forewarning  of  the  certain  retribution  that  was  lying 
in  wait  for  himself. 

There  came  a  sound  of  footsteps  along  the  passage.  They 
paused  before  his  cell.  Some  one  unlocked  the  door.  And, 
to  the  viscount's  astonishment,  the  procession  that  was  on  its 
way  to  the  gallows  entered  his  presence.  There  was  Frisbie, 
still  unbound,  but  guarded  by  half  a  dozen  policemen  and 
turnkeys,  and  attended  by  the  under-sheriff  of  the  county 
and  the  warden  and  the  chaplain  of  the  prison. 

Lord  Vincent  stared  in  astonishment,  wondering  what 
brought  them  there;  but  he  found  no  words  in  which  to  put 
the  question. 

The  chaplain  constituted  himself  the  spokesman  of  the 
party. 

"My  lord,  this  unhappy  man  wishes  to  see  you  before  he 
dies,  and  the  sheriff  has  kindly  accorded  him  the  privilege," 
Baid  Mr.  Godfree. 

Lord  Vincent  looked  from  the  chaplain  to  the  prisoner  in 
perplexity  and  terror.  What  could  the  condemned  man,  in 
the  last  hour  of  his  lif e^  want  with  him  ? 

Frisbie  spoke: 

_*'My  lord,  I  am  a  dying  man;  but  I  could  not  meet  death 
with  guilty  secrets  on  my  soul.  My  lord,  I  have  told  every- 
thing, the  whole  truth  about  the  death  of  poor  Ailsie,  and 
the  plot  against  my  lady.  I  could  not  help  it,  my  lord!  I 
could  not  leave  the  world  with  such  wrong  unrighted  behind 
me!  I  could  not  so  face  my  Creator.  I  have  come  to  tell 
you  this,  my  lord,  and  to  ask  you  to  forgive  me  if,  in  doing 
this,  I  have  been  compelled  to  do  you  harm,"  said  the  man, 
speaking  humbly,  deprecatingly,  almost  affectionately. 

"God  forgive  you,  Frisbie  I  but  you  have  ruined  me!"  was 
the  somewhat  strange  reply  of  the  viscount,  as  he  turned 
away ;  for  it  seemed  to  those  who  heard  him  that  he  was  ask- 
ing the  Lord  to  forgive  the  sinner,  not  for  his  sins,  but  for 
his  confession  of  them. 

The  procession  of  death  left  the  cell ;  the  door  was  locked ; 
and  the  viscount  was  alone  again — alone,  and  in  utter,  irre- 
mediable despair. 

_  He  sat  upon  the  side  of  the  bed,  with  his  hands  clasped  and 
his  chin  dropped  upon  his  breast  until  the  beU  of  the  prison 
chapel  suddenly  ceased  to  toll!  Then  he  looked  up.  It  was 
all  over!  The  judicial  tragedy  had  been  enacted!  And  he 
arose  and  went  to  the  grated  window  and  looked  out. 

No!  oh,  heav^i!  it  was  not  all  over!  That  group  around 
ithe  foot  of  the  gallows!  that  cart  and  empty  coffin!  that 
ehrouded  and  bound  figure,  convulsed  and  swaying  in  the 


1S6 


The  Execution. 


air!— blasted  his  sight!  With  a  loud  cry  he  dashed  his  hand 
up  to  his  eyes  to  shut  out  the  horrible  vision,  and  fell  heavily 
upon  the  floor.  He  lay  there  as  one  dead  until  the  turnkey 
brought  his  breakfast.  Then  he  got  up  and  threw  himself 
upon  the  bed.  He  eagerly  drank  the  coffee  that  was  brought 
to  him,  for  his  throat  was  parched  and  burning,  but  he  could 
not  swallow  a  mouthful  of  solid  food. 

"Bring  me  the  afternoon  paper  as  soon  as  it  is  out,"  he 
said  to  the  turnkey,  at  the  same  time  handing  him  a  half- 
crown. 

The  man  bowed  in  silence  and  took  his  breakfast  tray  from 
the  table  and  withdrew. 

For  some  reason  or  other,  perhaps  from  the  fear  of  coming 
ing  in  contact  with  the  preparations  for  the  execution,  Mrs. 
MacDonald  did  not  present  herself  at  the  prison  until  nearly 
noon.  So  the  prison  clock  was  actually  on  the  stroke  of 
twelve  when  old  Cuthbert  was  admitted  to  his  master's  cell. 

On  entering  and  beholding  his  master  the  old  man  started 
and  exclaimed  in  affright : 

"Gude  guide  us,  me  laird,  what  has  come  over  yel" 
"Nothing,  Cuthbert,  but  want  of  rest.     What  is  that  you 
have  in  your  hand?" 

"The  evening  paper,  me  laird,  that  ane  o'  the  lads  ^i'e  me 
to  bring  your  lairdship." 

"Have  you  looked  at  it  ?"  demanded  the  viscount,  anxiously, 
for  he  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  his  old  servant's  reading  the 
confession  of  Frisbie,  that  was  probably  in  that  very  paper. 
"Have  you  looked  at  it,  I  ask  you?"  he  repeated,  fiercely. 

"Nay,  no,  me  laird!  I  hanna  e'en  unfaulded  it!"  said  the 
old  man,  simply,  handing  him  the  paper. 

The  viscount  seized  it,  threw  himself  down  on  the  civs'.':  r 
and  opened  it;  but  instead  of  reading  the  paper,  he  looked 
up  at  old  Cuthbert,  who  was  standing  there  watching  his 
master,  with  the  deepest  concern  expressed  in  his  venerable 
countenance. 

"There!  get  about  something!  do  anything!  only  dor/t 
stand  there  and  stare  at  me,  as  if  you  had  gone  daft,"  angrily 
exclaim.ed  Lord  Vincent. 

The  old  man  turned  meekly  and  began  to  put  things 
straight  in  the  cell. 

The  viscount  searched  and  found  what  he  had  feared  to 
Bee.  Ah !  well  might  he  dread  the  eye  of  old  Cuthbert  on  him 
while  he  read  those  columns. 

Yes!  there  it  was!  the  accoiint  of  the  last  hours  of  Alick 
Frisbie  by  the  pen  of  the  chaplain !  the  night  in  the  cell,  the 
ecene  of  the  execution,  and,  Inst  of  all,  the  confession  of  the 
culprit  with  all  its  shameful  revelations.  The  viscount,  with 
a  feverish  desire  to  see  how  deeply  he  himself  was  implicate. I, 
end  to  know  the  worst  at  once,  read  it  all.    How  far  he  was 


Tlie  Execution,  257 

Implicated  indeed!    He  was  steeped  to  the  very  lips  in  in- 
famy. 

Why,  the  crime  for  which  Frisbie  had  suffered  death,  the 
murder  of  that  poor  girl,  committed  in  a  paroxysm  of  passion, 
and  repented  in  bitterness,  and  confessed  in  humility,  seemed 
a  light  offense  beside  the  deep  turpitude,  the  black  treachery 
of  that  long  premeditated,  carefully  arranged  plot  against 
Lady  Vincent,  in  which  the  viscount  was  the  principal  and 
the  valet  only  an  accomplice.  The  plot  was  revealed  in  all 
its  base,  loathsome,  revolting  details.  The  reader  knows 
what  these  details  were,  for  he  has  both  seen  them  and  heard 
of  them.  But  can  he  imagine  what  it  was  to  the  viscount 
to  have  them  discovered,  published  and  circulated  ? 

When  Lord  Vincent  had  read  this  confession  through  he 
knew  that  all  was  forever  over  with  him !  he  knew  that  at  that 
very  hour  hundreds  of  people  were  reading  that  confession, 
shuddering  at  his  guilt,  scorning  his  baseness,  and  antici- 
pating his  conviction  I  he  knew  as  well  as  if  he  had  just  heard 
the  sentence  of  the  court  what  that  sentence  would  be.  Penal 
eervitude  for  life! 

Deep  groans  burst  from  his  bosom. 

"Me  laird,  me  laird,  you  are  surely  ill !"  said  the  old  maiip 
anxiously,  coming  forward. 

"Yes,  Cuthbert,  I  am  ill ;  in  pain !" 

"Will  I  call  a  doctor?" 

"No,  Cuthbert!  a  doctor  is  not  necessary;  but  attend  to 
me  a  moment.  They  let  you  bring  me  anything  you  like 
unquestioned,  do  they  not?" 

"Ay,  surely,  me  laird !  for  you  are  no  under  condemnation 
yet,  but  only  waiting  for  your  honorable  acquittal !" 

"Cuthbert !  I  think  you  have  a  brother  who  is  a  chemist  in 
town,  have  you  not?" 

"Ou,  ay,  me  laird !    Joost  Randy,  honest  man." 

The  viscount  sat  down  and  wrote  a  line  on  a  scrap  of  paper 
and  gave  it  to  the  old  man. 

"Now,  Cuthbert,  take  this  to  your  brother.  Be  sure  that 
you  let  no  one  see  that  bit  of  paper,  and  when  you  get  the 
medicine  that  I  have  written  for,  put  it  in  your  bosom  and 
don't  take  it  out  until  you  come  back  to  me  and  we  are  alone. 
Now,  Cuthbert,  I  hope  you  will  be .  more  canny  over  this 
affair  than  you  were  over  the  affair  of  the  note  I  sent  to  Fris- 
bic,  which  you  permitted  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  Philis' 
tines." 

"Ah,  puir  Frisbie!  puir  lad!  Gude  hae  mercy  on  him! 
I'll  be  carefu',  me  laird,  though  it  was  no  me,  but  pui?^]Fris- 
bie  himsel'  that  let  the  bit  note  drap !  But  I'll  be  caref  u^  me 
laird,  though  'deed  I  dinna  see  the  use  o'  concealment-,  sin' 
naebody  ever  interferes  wi'  onything  I  am  bringing  till  your 
lairdship." 


25^  THe  Execution. 

"But  they  might  interfere  with  this  because  it  ia  medicine, 
for  thoy  think  that  no  one  but  the  prison  doctor  has  a  right 
to  give  medicine  here." 

"Ou,  ay — I  comprehend,  me  laird,  that  sic  might  be  the 
case  where  the  medicament  is  dangerous.  But  will  this  be 
dangerous  ?" 

"Why,  no!  it  is  nothing  but  simple  laudanum.  You  know 
how  good  laudanmn  is  to  allay  pain;  and  that  there  is  no 
danger  at  all  in  it!" 

"No,  me  laird,  gin  ane  doesna  tak'  an  ower  muckle  dose." 

"Certainly,  if  one  does  not  take  an  overdose;  but  I  have 
knowledge  enough  not  to  do  that,  Cuthbert." 

"Surely,  me  laird.  I'll  gae  noo  and  get  it,"  replied  the  old 
man,  taking  up  his  hat  and  knocking  at  the  door  to  be  re- 
leased. 

The  turnkey  opened  promptly,  and  Cuthbert  departed  on 
his  errand.  -  . 

When  the  viscount  was  left  alone  he  resumed  his  restless 
pacing  up  and  down  the  narrow  limits  of  his  cell  and  con- 
tinued it  for  a  while.  Then  he  sat  down  to  his  little  table, 
drew  a  sheet  of  paper  before  him,  and  began  to  write  a  letter. 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  unlocking  of  his  cell  door. 
Hastily  he  turned  the  paper  with  the  blank  side  up  and 
looked  around.     It  was  Mr.  Bruce,  his  counsel. 

The  lawyer  looked  unusually  grave. 

"Well,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  was  left  alone  with  his  client 
• — "the  poor  devil,  Frisbie,  is  gone !" 

"Yes,"  responded  the  viscount,  in  a  low  voice. 

*'That  is  an  ugly  business  of  the  confession." 

"Very;  the  man  was  mad!"  said  the  viscount. 

"Not  unlikely ;  but  I  wish  we  may  be  able  to  persuade  the 
jury  that  he  was  so ;  or  else  induce  the  judge  to  rule  his  evi- 
dence out  altogether." 

"Can  that  be  done  ?  I  mean,  can  the  judges  be  induced  to 
rule  out  the  confession  as  evidence?"  inquired  the  viscount, 
sudden  hope  lighting  up  his  hitherto  dejected  countenance. 

"I  fear  not ;  I  fear  that  our  chance  is  to  persuade  the  jury 
that  the  man  was  insane  or  mendacious — in  a  word,  to  im- 
peach his  rationality  or  his  truthfulness,  one  or  the  other; 
we  must  decide  which  stand  we  are  to  take,  which  call  iu 
question." 

"You  might  doubt  either  his  sanity  or  his  truth  with  equal- 
ly good  cause.  He  was  always  a  fool  and  always  a  liarl 
When  is  the  trial  to  come  on  ?" 

"That  is  just  what  I  came  to  speak  to  you  about.  It  ia 
called  for  to-morrow  at  ten." 

"To-morrow  at  ten  ?" 

"Yes."     ^ 

^Are  you  quit©  ready  with  the  defense?" 


The  Execution.  259 

"I  was  until  this  nasty  business  of  Frisbie's  confession 
turned  up.  I  shall  have  to  take  a  copy  of  the  paper  contain- 
ing it  home  with  me  to-night,  and  study  it,  to  see  how  I  can 
pull  it  to  pieces,  and  destroy  its  eifects  upon  the  jury.  Have 
you  got  it  here?"  said  Mr.  Bruce,  taking  up  the  afternoon 
paper  that  lay  upon  the  table. 

"Yes." 

"Have  you  done  with  it?" 

"Yes." 

The  lawyer  folded  up  the  paper  and  put  it  in  his  pocket 
and  took  his  hat  to  depart. 

"Mr.  Bruce,"  said  the  viscount,  earnestly,  "I  am  about  to 
ask  you  a  question,  which  I  must  entreat  you  to  answer  truth- 
fully— What  are  the  chances  of  my  acquittal?" 

The  lawyer  hesitated  and  changed  color. 

The  eyes  of  the  viscoiint  were  fixed  earnestly  upon  him. 

The  eyes  of  the  counsel  fell. 

"I  see !  you  need  not  reply  to  my  question.  You  think  my 
chance  a  bad  one,"  said  Lord  Vincent,  despondently. 

"No,  my  lord;  I  did  not  mean  to  give  you  any  such  im- 
pression," said  Mr.  Bruce,  recovering  himself  and  his  pro- 
fessional manners.  "Before  this  troublesome  confession  of 
Frisbie's  your  chance  was  an  excellent  one — • — " 

"But  since?" 

"Well,  as  I  say,  that  is  an  ugly  feature  in  the  case ;  but  I 
will  do  my  best.  And  to  say  nothing  of  my  own  poor  abil- 
ities, my  colleagues.  Stair  and  Drummond,  are  among  the 
most  successful  barristers  in  the  kingdom.  They  are  always 
safe  to  gain  a  verdict  where  thei-e  is  a  verdict  possible  to  be 
gained." 

"Yes,  I  know  that  I  have  the  best  talent  in  the  three  king- 
doms engaged  in  my  defense,"  said  the  viscount;  but  he  said 
it  with  a  profound  sigh. 

"I  will  look  in  upon  you  again  early  to-morrow  morning, 
before  we  go  into  court,"  said  Mr.  Bruce,  as  he  bowed  him- 
self out. 

This  interview  with  his  counsel  had  only  tended  to  con- 
firm the  fears  of  the  viscount  and  deepen  his  dependency,  for, 
notwithstanding  the  guarded  words  of  the  lawyer.  Lord  Vin- 
cent saw  that  he  had  well  nigh  given  up  all  for  lost.  With  a 
deep  groan  he  sat  down  to  the  table  and  resumed  the  writing 
of  his  letter.  He  had  not  written  many  minutes  before  he 
was  again  startled  by  the  opening  of  the  door.  He  hastily 
concealed  his  writing  under  a  piece  of  blotting  paper,  and 
nervously  turned  to  see  who  was  the  new  intruder. 

It  was  old  Cuthbert,  come  back  from  his  errand. 
As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  upon  them  the  old  maa 
approached  his  master. 
"Have  you  got  the  medicine,  Cuthbert?" 

17 


a6o  Tte  Execution. 

"Ay,  me  laird,"  replied  the  servant,  taking  a  bottle,  rolled 
in  a  white  paper,  from  his  pocket,  and  handing  it  to  hia 
master. 

Some  instinct  made  the  viscount  conceal  the  bottle  in  hit 
own  bosom. 

"And  here,  me  laird,  are  two  letters  the  turnkey  gave  me 
to  hand  to  your  lairdship.  He  tauld  me  they  had  just  been 
left  at  the  warden's  office  for  you,"  said  Cuthbert,  laying 
two  formidable-looking  epistles  before  his  master. 

Lord  Vincent  recognized  in  the  superscription  of  the  re- 
spective letters  the  handwriting  of  his  counsel,  Mr.  Drum- 
mond  and  Mr.  Stair.  He  hastily  opened  them  one  after  the 
other.  Several  bank  notes  for  a  large  amount  rolled  out  of 
each.  Surprised,  he  rapidly  cast  his  eyes  over  each  in  turn. 
And  his  face  turned  to  a  deadly  whiteness.  The  two  lettera 
were  in  effect  the  same.  It  seemed  as  though  the  writers, 
though  not  in  partnership,  had  acted  in  concert  on  this  occa- 
sion. They  each  respectfully  begged  leave  to  return  their 
retaining  fees  and  retire  from  the  defense  of  the  viscount. 
Since  reading  the  confession  of  the  convict,  Aleck  Frisbie, 
they  could  not  conscientiously  act  as  counsel  for  Lord  Vin- 
cent. Such  was  the  purport,  if  not  the  exact  words,  of  the 
two  letters. 

"Me  laird !  me  laird !  ye  are  ill  again !"  said  old  Cuthbert, 
anxiously  approaching  his  master. 
"Yes !  the  pain  has  returned." 
"Will  ye  no  tak'  some  o'  the  medicine  noo  ?" 
"No,  Cuthbert !  not  until  I  retire  for  the  night !"  answered 
the  viscount;   but  he  withdrew  the  bottle   from  his  bosom 
and  took  it  to  the  wash-basin  and  washed  oif  the  label,  and 
then  threw  it — the  label — into  the  fire. 

Cuthbert  watched  him,  and  wondered  at  this  proceeding, 
but  was  too  respectful  to  express  surprise  or  make  inquiries. 

And  at  this  moment  the  turnkey  entered  with  Lord  Vin- 
cent's supper,  that  had  been  brought  from  the  "Highlander  ;'* 
and  while  he  arranged  it  on  the  table  he  warned  Cuthbert  that 
the  prison  doors  were  about  to  be  closed  for  the  night,  and 
that  Mrs.  MacDonald  was  waiting  for  him  to  drive  her  back 
to  the  castle. 

Upon  hearing  this  the  old  man  took  a  respectful  leave  of 
his  master  and  departed. 

The  turnkey  remained  in  attendance -upon  the  prisoner, 
kindly  pressing  him  to  eat. 

But  Lord  Vincent  swallowed  only  a  little  tea,  and  then 
pushed  the  food  from  him. 

The  turnkey  took  away  the  service,  locked  the  prisoner  in 
for  the  right,  and  then  went  straight  to  the  warden's  office, 
"Weel,  Donald^  what  15  it,  moa?"  inquired  the  warden. 


,       '  The  Execution.  26t 

"An  ye  please,  sir,  I'm  not  easy  in  my  mind  about  me 
Laird  Vincent,"  said  the  turnkey. 

"Why,  what  ails  me  laird?" 

"Why,  sir,  he  is  joost  like  one  distraught!" 

"Ou,  ay,  it  will  be  the  confession  o'  the  malefactor,  Frisbie^ 
that  has  fasht  him;  as  weel  it  may!" 

"He's  war  nor  fasht!  he  looks  joost  likely  to  do  himsel'  St 
mischief!"  said  Christie,  shaking  his  head. 

"Hech !  an  that  be  sae  we  maun  be  caref  u' !  Are  there  any; 
eharp-edged  or  pointed  instruments  in  his  cell  ?" 

"Naught  but  his  penknife.  I  was  minded  to  bring  it 
away,  but  I  did  na." 

"Eh,  then  we  will  pay  him  a  visit  in  his  oell,"  said  the 
warden,  rising. 

The  turnkey  led  the  way  upstairs,  and  they  entered  the 
prisoner's  cell.  The  viscount,  who  was  sitting  at  the  table 
with  his  head  leaning  upon  his  hand,  looked  up  at  this  un- 
usual visit.  His  face  was  deadly  pale,  but  beyond  that  the 
warden  noticed  nothing  amiss  in  his  appearance;  and  that 
paleness  was  certainly  natural  in  a  prisoner  suffering  from 
confinement  and  anxiety.  There  is  usually  but  scant  cere- 
mony observed  between  jailer  and  prisoner;  nevertheless,  in 
this  case  Auld  Sandie  Gra'ame  actually  apologized  for  hia 
unreasonable  visit. 

"Me  laird,"  he  said,  "I  hae  a  verra  unpleasant  duty  to  per- 
form here.  Donald  reports  that  ye  are  no  that  weel  in  your 
mind.  And  sic  being  the  case,  I  maun,  in  regard  to  your  ain 
guid  and  safety,  see  till  the  removal  of  a'  edged  tools  and 
eic  like  dangerous  weapons," 

"Take  away  what  you  please;  I  have  no  objection,"  said 
the  viscount,  indifferently. 

Whereupon  the  warden  and  the  turnkey  made  a  thorough 
search  of  the  room,  took  away  his  razors  and  scissors  from 
his  dressing-case,  and  his  penknife  and  eraser  from  his 
writing-desk. 

"I  shall  take  guid  care  of  a'  these  articles,  me  laird,  and  re- 
turn them  to  you  safe,  ance  you  are  out  o'  these  wa's,"  said 
the  warden. 

The  viscount  made  no  reply. 

"And  ye  maun  ken  that  I  only  remove  them  to  prevent  ye 
doin'  yoursel'  a  mischief  in  your  despondency,"  he  con- 
tinued. 

The  viscount  smiled  with  a  strange,  derisive,  triumphant 
expression,  but  still  did  not  reply  in  words. 

"And  gin  ye  will  heed  guid  counsel,  ye  will  na  gi'e  your- 
eel'  up  in  despair.  Despair  is  an  unco  ill  counsellor  and 
the  de'il  is  aye  ready  to  tak'  advantage  of  its  presence.  Guid 
aiichtj  rae  laird,  and  guid  rest  till  y%"  said  Auld  Saundie^  as 


262  The  Execution. 

hw  withdrew  himself  and  his  subordinate  from  the  ceil  and 
locked  his  prisoner  in  finally  for  the  night. 

When  he  got  back  to  his  office  he  summoned  all  of  his  offi- 
cers around  him  and  spoke  to  them : 

"Lads,  I  ha'e  sair  misgivings  anent  j'on  Lord  Vincent.  Ye 
maun  be  verra  caref u' !  Ye  manua  let  his  mon  Cuthbert  tak' 
onything  in  until  it  ha'e  passed  muster  under  me  ain  twa  een. 
And  you,  Donald,  maun  a.ye  gang  in  wi'  Cuthbert  or  ony 
ither,  gentle  or  simple,  wha  gaes  to  see  me  laird,  and  bide 
in  the  cell  wi'  them  to  watch  that  the  visitor  gi'es  naething 
unlawfu'  or  dangerous  to  the  prisoner.  An  ounce  o'  preveen- 
tion,  ye  ken,  lads,  is  better  than  a  p\ind  o'  cure  I" 

And  having  given  this  order,  the  warden  dismissed  his 
subordinates  to  their  various  evening  duties. 

Yes!  "an  ounce  of  prevention  is  better  than  a  pound  of 
cure!"  But  it  is  a  pity  the  honest  warden  had  not  known 
when  to  apply  the  preventive  agent. 

Meanwhile,  how  had  Faustina  borne  her  imprisonment? 

Why,  excellently !  Not  that  she  had  any  patience,  or  cour- 
age, or  fortitude,  for  she  had  not  the  least  bit  of  either,  or  of 
any  other  sort  of  heroism.  But,  as  I  said  before,  she  was 
such  a  mere  animal  that,  so  long  as  she  was  made  comfortable 
in  the  present,  she  felt  no  trouble  on  the  score  of  the  past  ol 
the  future. 

^fter  her  first  fit  of  howling,  weeping  and  raging  had  ex- 
hausted itself,  and  she  had  seen  that  her  violence  had  no 
other  effect  than  to  injure  her  cause,  she  resigned  herself  to 
circumstances  and  made  herself  as  comfortable  as  possible  in 
her  cell. 

The  expenditure  of  a  few  pounds  had  procured  her  every- 
thing she  wanted,  except  her  liberty;  and  that  she  did  not 
feel  the  want  of,  as  a  creature  with  more  soul  might  have 
done. 

Any  chance  visitor  who  might  have  gone  into  Faustina's 
cell  would  have  been  astonished  to  see  it  fitted  up  as  a  tiny 
boudoir,  and  would  have  required  to  be  told  that  there  was 
no  law  to  prevent  a  prisoner,  unconvicted  and  waiting  trial, 
from  fitting  up  her  cell  as  luxuriously  as  she  pleased  to  do,  if 
ehe  had  money  to  pay  the  expense  and  friends  to  take  tlie 
trouble. 

And  Faustina  had  freely  spent  money  and  freely  used 
iMrs.  MacDonald. 

The  floor  of  her  cell  was  covered  with  a  crimson  carpet, 
the  festooned  window  with  a  lace  curtain,  and  ornamented 
with  a  bouquet  of  flowers.  A  soft  bed,  with  fine  linen  and 
warm  coverlids,  stood  in  one  comer;  a  toilet-table  and  mirror 
draped  with  lace  in  a:. other;  a  small  marble  washstand,  with 
its  china  service,  iu  u  third,  and  a  French  porcelain  stove  in 


News  for  Claudia.  ^63 

tie  fotirth.  A.  crimson-covered  easy-cliair  and  tiny  stand 
filled  up  the  middle  of  the  small  apartment. 

And  here,  always  well  dressed,  Faustina  sat  and  read  nov- 
els, or  worked  crochet,  and  gossiped  with  Mrs.  MacDonald 
all  day  long.  And  here  her  epicurean  meals,  shared  by  her 
friend  and  visitor,  were  brought. 

And  here  Mrs.  MaqPonald  petted  and  soothed  and  flattered 
her  with  hopes  of  a  speedy  deliverance. 


CHAPTER   XXXYI. 

NEWS  FOR  CLAUDIA. 

Death — even  the  most  serene  and  beautiful  death,  coming 
to  a  good  old  man  at  the  close  of  a  long,  beneficent  life — is 
awful.  Sudden  and  violent  death  falling  upon  a  strong 
young  man  in  the  midst  of  his  sins  and  follies  is  horrible. 
But  perhaps  the  most  appalling  aspect  under  which  the  last 
messenger  can  appear  is  that  of  a  deliberately  inflicted  ju- 
dicial death ! 

Such  a  doom,  pronounced  upon  the  greatest  sinner  that 
ever  lived,  must  move  the  pity  of  his  bitterest  enemy. 

The  family  at  Cameron  Court  formed  a  Christian  house- 
hold. They  received  the  news  of  Frisbie's  conviction  with 
solemn,  compassionate  approbation.  Justice  approved  the 
sentence;  but  mercy  pitied  the  victim.  And  they  passed  the 
day  of  his  execution  in  a  Sabbath  stillness. 

They  were  glad  when  the  day  was  over;  glad  when  the  lata 
evening  mail  brought  the  afternoon  papers  from  Banff,  an- 
nouncing that  the  tragedy  was  finished;  glad  to  read  there 
that  the  sinner  had  repented,  confessed,  and  died,  hoping  in 
the  mercy  of  the  Father,  through  the  atonement  of  the  Son. 

Each  one  breathed  a  sigh  of  infinite  relief  to  find  that  this 
sinner  had  not  endangered  his  soul  by  impenitently  rushing 
from  man's  temporal  to  God's  eternal  condemnation. 

No  one  failed  to  see  the  immense  importance  of  Frisbie's 
dying  confession  as  evidence  for  the  prosecution  in  the  ap- 
proaching trial  of  the  Viscount  Vincent  and  Faustina  Du- 
gald,  or  the  fatal  effect  it  must  have  upon  the  accused;  yet 
no  one  spoke  of  it  then  and  there.  The  day  of  stern  retribu- 
tive justice  was  not  the  time  for  unseemly  triumph. 

They  separated,  for  the  night,  gravely  and  almost  sadly. 

Claudia  went  up  to  her  room,  where  her  women,  Katie  and 
Sally,  reinstated  in  her  service,  were  in  attendance.  Sally, 
as  usual,  was  silent  and  humble;  Katie  equally,  as  usual, 
Italkative  and  dictatorial. 

"And  so  de  shamwaily  is  hung  at  last!  serbe  him  right; 
and  I  hopes  it  did  him  good;  an'  I  wish  it  was  my  lordship 
an'  de  whited  salt-petre  along  ob  himl"  she  said,  folding  her 


264  News  for  Claudia. 

arms  over  her  fat  bosom  and  rolling  herself  from  side  to  side 
with  infinite  satisfaction. 

"For  shame,  Katie,  to  triumph  so  over  a  dead  man !  I 
should  have  thought  a  good  Christian  woman  like  you  would 
have  prayed  for  him  before  he  died,"  said  Claudia,  gravely. 

"  'Deed  didn't  I !  An'  I  ain't  gwine  to  do  it  nuther.  I 
ain't  gwine  to  bother  my  Hebbenly  Master  'bout  no  sich 
grand  vilyan !  dere  now !" 

"Oh,  Katie,  Katie,  I  am  afraid  you  are  a  great  heathen !" 
.     "Well,  den,  I  just  ruther  be  a  heathen  dan  a  whited  salt- 
petre, or  a  shamwally,  or  a  lordship  either,  if  I  couldn't  do  no 
more  credit  to  it  dan  some!"  said  Katie,  having,  as  usual, 
the  last  word. 

Claudia  longed  to  be  alone  on  this  night,  so  she  soon  dis- 
missed her  attendants,  closed  up  her  room,  put  out  all  her 
lights,  and  lay  down  in  darkness,  solitude  and  meditation. 

Strange!  but  on  this  night  her  thoughts,  and  even  her  sym- 
pathies, were  with  Lord  Vincent  in  his  prison  cell.  Why 
should  she  think  of  him?  Why  should  she  pity  him?  She 
had  never  loved  him,  never  even  fancied  that  she  loved  him, 
even  in  the  delusive  days  of  courtship,  or  in  the  early  days 
of  marriage;  and  she  had  despised  and  shunned  him  in  the 
miserable  days  of  their  estranged  life  at  Castle  Cragg.  Why, 
then,  as  she  lay  there  in  the  darkness,  silence  and  solitude 
of  her  own  chamber,  should  her  imagination  hover  over  him  ? 
Why  did  she  contemplate  him  in  sorrow  and  in  compassion? 

Because  in  that  dreary  cell  she  saw  the  twofold  man — the 
man  that  he  ought  to  have  been,  and  the  man  that  he  was; 
because  she  was  his  wife,  and  though  she  had  never  loved 
him,  yet  with  better  treatment  she  might  have  been  won  to 
do  so;  and  finally,  because  she  was  a  woman,  and  therefore 
full  of  sympathy  with  every  sort  of  suffering. 

She  knew  that  the  dying  confession  of  Frisbie  would  seal 
Lord  Vincent's  fate.  And  she  contemplated  that  fate  as  she 
had  never  done  before. 

Penal  Servitude! 

Why,  it  had  seemed  a  mere  empty  phrase  until  now !  Now 
it  was  an  appalling  reality  brimful  of  horror,  even  for  the 
coarsest,  dullest  and  hardest  criminal ;  but  of  how  much  more 
for  him! 

Lord  Vincent  in  the  prison  garb,  working  in  chains,  in- 
quired after  by  curious  sight-seers;  and  pointed  out  to 
strangers  as  the  felon-viscount! 

She  meditated  on  the  effect  all  this  would  have  on  him,  in. 
the  unspeakable  misery  it  would  inflict  upon  his  vain,  inso- 
lent, self-indulgent  organization;  and  she  marveled  how  he 
would  ever  endure  it! 

^d  she  thought  of  the  dishonor  thig  would  reflect  upon 


News  for  Claudia,  265 

herself  as  his  wife!  And  she  shrunk  shudderingly  away 
from  the  burning  shame  of  living  on,  the  wife  of  a  felon. 

In  the  deep  compassion  she  could  not  but  feel  for  him  and 
in  the  intense  mortification  she  anticipated  for  herself  she 
earnestly  wished  that  in  some  manner  he  might  escape  the 
degrading  penalty  of  his  crimes. 

In  these  harassing  thoughts  and  distressing  feelings  Clau- 
dia lay  tossing  upon  her  restless  bed  until  long  after  mid- 
night, when  at  length  she  dropped  into  a  deep  and  dreamless 
sleep. 

Now,  the  circumstances  that  I  am  about  to  relate  will  be 
interpreted  in  a  different  manner  by  different  people.  Ra- 
tionalists who  pin  their  faith  on  Sii  Walter  Scott  and  his 
"Demonology"  will  say  it  was  only  sl.l  optical  illusion;  the 
incredulous,  who  believe  in  nothing,  will  declare  it  was  but 
a  dream,  while  Spiritualists,  who  follow  Mr,  Robert  Dale 
Owen  in  his  "Footprints  on  the  Boundaries  of  .A.nother 
World,"  will  be  ready  to  declare  that  it  was  the  apparition  of 
a  spirit;  I  commit  myself  to  no  opinion  on  the  subject. 

But  when  Claudia  had  slept  soundly  for  three  hours  she 
was  aroused  by  hearing  her  name  called;  she  awoke  with  a 
violent  start,  sat  straight  up  in  bed,  and  stared  right  before 
her  with  fixed  eyes,  pallid  face  and  immovable  form,  as  though 
she  were  suddenly  petrified  tc  marble ! 

For  there  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  between  the  tall  posts,  in 
the  division  formed  by  the  festoons  of  the  curtains,  stood  the 
figure  of  the  Viscount  Vincent !  His  face  wa§_pale,  still  and 
stern,  like  that  of  a  dead  man;  one  livid  hand  clutched  his 
breast,  the  other  was  stretched  toward  her;  and  from  the 
cold,  blue,  motionless  lips  proceeded  a  voice  hollow  as  the 
distant  moan  of  the  wintry  wind  through  leafless  woods — 

"Claudia,  the  debt  is  paid!" 

With  these  words  the  vision  slowly  dissolved  to  air. 

Then,  and  not  until  then,  was  the  icy  spell  that  bound  all 
Claudia's  faculties  loosened. 

She  uttered  piercing  shriek  upon  shriek  that  startled  all  the 
sleepers  in  the  house,  and  brought  them  rushing  into  her 
room, 

Katie  and  Sally,  being  the  nearest,  were  the  first  to  enter. 

"For  Marster's  sake,  my  ladyship,  what  is  the  matter  ?"  in- 
quired the  old  woman,  while  Sally  stood  by  in  dumb  terror. 

"Oh,  Katie!  Katie!  it  was  Lord  Vincent!  He  has  con- 
trived to  make  his  escape  in  some  manner !  He  is  out  of 
prison !  he  is  in  this  very  house !  he  was  in  this  room  but  a 
minute  ago,  though  I  do  not  see  him  now!  and  he  spoke  to 
me!" 

"My  goodness  gracious  me  alibe,  Miss  Claudia,  honey,  it 
couldn't  a  been  he!  he's  locked  up  safe  in  gaol,  ^o\x  kno"*-^ 


266  News  for  Claudia. 

It  mus'  a  been  hi?  eperrit!"  said  superstitious  Katie,  with  the 
deepest  awe. 

"Claudia,  my  dearest,  what  is  the  matter?  Wliat  is  all 
this  ?  What  has  happened  ?"  anxiously  inquired  the  Countess 
of  Hurstmonceux,  as,  hastily  wrapped  in  her  dressing-gown, 
she  hurried  into  the  chamber  and  up  to  Claudia's  bedside.  _ 

"Come  closer,  Berenice !  stoop  down !  now  listen !  The  vis- 
count has  broken  prison  1  he  was  here  but  a  moment  ago  1  and 
he  is  gone  I  but  his  unexpected  appearance  in  this  place  and 
at  this  hour,  looking  aa  he  did  so  deathly  pale,  so  livid  and  so 
corpse-like,  frightened  me  nearly  out  of  my  senses,  and  I 
screamed  with  terror.    I — I  tremble  even  yet !" 

"My  dearest  Claudia,  you  have  been  dreaming!  Compose 
yourself,"  said  Lady  Hurstmoncexix,  soothingly. 

"My  dearest  Berenice,  it  was  no  dream,  believe  me!  I  was 
indeed  asleep,  fast  asleep;  but  I  was  awakened  by  hearing 
myself  called  by  name — 'Claudia,  Claudia,  Claudia,'  three 
times.  And  I  opened  my  eyes  and  sat  up  in  bed,  and  saw 
standing  at  the  foot,  looking  at  me  between  the  curtains. 
Lord  Vincent!" 

At  this  moment  Judge  Merlin,  in  his  dressing-gown  and 
slippers,  came  slowly  into  the  chamber,  looking  around  in  a 
bewildered  way  and  saying : 

"They  told  me  the  screams  proceeded  from  my  daughter's 
apartment!  What  is  the  matter  here?  Claudia,  my  dear, 
what  has  happened  ?  What  has  frightened  you  ?"  he  inquired, 
approaching  her  bedside, 

"Oh,  my  poor  papa!  have  you  been  disturbel,  too?  How 
Borry  I  am!"  said  Claudia. 

"Never  mind  me,  my  dear!     What  has  happened  to  youl'* 

"Lady  Vincent  has  been  frightened  by  a  disagreeable 
dream,  sir,"  replied  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  answering  for  her 
friend. 

"My  dear  lady !  you  here  ?"  exclaimed  the  judge,  seeing  her 
for  the  first  time  since  he  entered  the  room. 

"I  am  a  light  sleeper,"  smiled  the  countess. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  papa,  that  I  aroused  the  house  in  this 
manner,"  said  Claudia,  with  real  regret  in  her  tone. 

"It  was  not  like  you  to  do  so,  for  a  dream,  my  dear,"  re- 
plied the  judge,  gravely. 

"It  was  no  dream,  papa !  it  was  no  dream,  as  the  result  will 
prove." 

"What  was  it  then,  my  dear?" 

"It  was  the  Viscount  Vincent!" 

"The  Viscount  Vincent!"  exclaimed  the  judge,  in  aston- 
ishment. 

"Yes,  papa!  ho  has  contrived  to  escape  and  to  enter  this 
home  and  this  very  room!     It  was  his,  sudden  appearance 


News  for  Claudia.  267 

that  frightened  me  into  the  screaming  fit  that  alarmed  the 
household ;  and  for  which  I  am  very  sorry." 

"The  Viscount  Vincent  here !  But  how  on  earth  could  he 
have  escaped  from  prison  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,  papa !  I  only  know  by  the  evidence  of  my 
own  senses  that  he  has  done  so !" 

"My  dearest  Claudia !  believe  me,  you  have  been  dreaming ! 
Judge  Merlin,  if  you  knew  the  great  strength  and  security 
of  our  prisons,  you  would  also  know  how  impossible  it  would 
be  for  any  prisoner  to  escape,"  said  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  ad- 
dressing in  turn  the  father  and  the  daughter. 

"Berenice,  that  I  have  not  been  dreaming  to-mon*ow  will 
showl  For  to-morrow  you  and  all  concerned  will  know  that 
Lord  Vincent  has  escaped  from  prison !  But  my  dear  Bere- 
nice! and  you,  my  dearest  father!  promise  me  one  thing! 
promise  me  not  to  give  Lord  Vincent  up  to  justice,  but  to 
suffer  him  to  get  away  from  the  country,  if  he  can  do  so! 
That  is  doubtless  all  that  he  proposes  to  himself  to  do !  And 
such  exile  will  be  punishment  enough  for  him,  especially  as 
it  will  involve  the  resignation  of  his  rank,  title  and  inher- 
itance. So  let  him  get  away  if  he  can!  He  can  work  no 
further  woe  for  me  I  Frisbie's  dying  confession  has  killed  off 
all  his  calumnies  against  me!  He  is  harmless  henceforth! 
So  leave  him  to  God  1"  pleaded  Claudia. 

"I  am  willing  to  do,  or  leave  undone,  whatever  you  please, 
my  dear;  but — do  you  really  think  that  you  actually  did  see 
the  viscount,  and  that  you  did  not  only  dream  of-seeing  him  ?" 
inquired  the  judge,  unable  to  get  over  his  amazement. 

"Yes,  papa;  I  saw  him;  and  to-morrow  will  prove  that  I 
did  so,"  said  Claudia,  emphatically. 

Lady  Hurstmonceux  smiled  incredulously,  for  she  did  not 
reflect  that  there  were  more  ways  than  one  of  breaking  out 
of  prison. 

"But  supposing  it  to  have  been  th«  viscount,  and  supposing 
that  he  had  succeeded  in  bursting  locks  and  bars  and  eluding 
guards  and  sentinels,  why  should  he  have  come  here,  of  aU 
places  in  the  world  ?  What  could  have  been  his  motive  in  so 
risking  a  recapture?"  inquired  the  judge,  who  seemed  in- 
clined to  investigate  the  affair  then  and  there. 

"I  do  not  know,  papa.  I  have  not  had  time  to  think.  I 
was  so  astonished  and  even  frightened  at  his  mere  appearance 
that  I  never  asked  myself  the  reason  of  it,"  answered  Clau- 
dia. 

"Did  you  not  ask  him  ?" 

"N"o,  papa.    I  only  screamed." 

"Did  he  not  speak  to  you  ?" 
,    "Yes,  papa." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

'Tapa,  I  had  better  tell  you  just  how  it  happened/'  an- 


268  News  for  Claudia. 

swered  Claudia,  giving  the  judge  a  detailed  account  of  the 
dream,  vision  or  ghost,  as  the  reader  chooses  to  call  it;  but 
vi'hich  she  persisted  in  declaring  to  be  the  viscount  himself  in 
the  flesh.  ' 

"It  is  most  extraordinary!  How  did  he  get  out?  Lady 
Hurstmonceux,  had  we  not  better  have  the  house  searched  for 
him  V  inquired  the  judge. 

"It  shall  be  done,  if  you  please,  judge;  though  I  think  it 
unnecessary." 

"Papa!  no!  he  went  as  he  came.  Let  him  go.  I  hope  he 
will  be  clear  of  the  country  before  to-morrow  morning." 

At  this  moment  the  clock  struck  five,  although  it  was  still 
pitch  dark  and  far  from  the  dawn  of  day. 

"There !  I  declare  it  is  to-morrow  morning  already,  as  the 
Irish  would  say.  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  do  not  let  me  keep 
you  up  any  longer.  I  know  your  usual  hour  for  rising  at 
this  season  of  the  year  is  eight  o'clock.  You  will  have  three 
good  hours'  sleep  before  you  yet.  Papa,  dear,  go  to  bed,  or 
you  will  make  yourself  ill." 

"Are  you  sure  you  will  not  have  anything  before  I  go,  Clau- 
dia ?"  inquired  the  countess, 

"Nothing  whatever,  dear ;  I  think  I  shall  sleep." 

Lady  Hurstmonceux  stooped  and  kissed  her  friend,  and 
thou,  with  a  smile  and  a  bow  to  the  judge,  she  retired  from 
the  room. 

"Do  you  think  now  that  you  will  rest,  Claudia  ?"  inquired 
the  judge. 

"Yes,  papa,  yes.     Go  and  rest  yourself." 

lie  also  stooped  and  kissed  her,  and  then  left  the  chamber. 

"Go  to  bed,  Katie  and  Sally,"  said  Claudia  to  her  women. 

"  'Deed  'fore  de  Lord  ain't  I  gwine  to  no  bed  to  leave  you 
here  by  yourse'f.  I  don't  want  you  to  see  no  more  sperrits," 
replied  Katie.  And  she  left  the  room  for  a  few  minutes  and 
returned  dragging  in  her  mattress,  which  she  spread  upon  the 
floor,  and  upon  which  she  threw  herself  to  sleep  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  dark  hours. 

Lady  Vincent  submitted  to  this  intrusion,  because  she 
knew  it  would  be  utterly  useless  to  expostulate. 

But  Sally  began  to  whimper. 

"Now,  den,  what  de  matter  long  o'  you  ?  You  seen  a  sper- 
rit,  too  ?"  demanded  Katie. 

"I's  feared  to  sleep  by  myse'f,  for  fear  I  should  see  some- 
thin',"  wept  Sally. 
'    "Den  you  lay  down  here  by  me,"  ordered  Katie. 

And  thus  it  was  that  Lady  Vincent's  two  women  shared  her 
sleeping-room  the  remainder  of  that  disturbed  night — to  be 
disturbed  no  longer;  for,  whether  it  was  owing  to  the  pres- 
ence of  the  negroes  or  not,  Claudia  slept  untroubled  by 
dream,  vision   or  apparition,  until   the  daylight^  streaming 


News  for  Claudia.  269 

through  one  window,  that  had  been  left  unclosed,  awakened 
her. 

It  was  ten  o'clock,  however,  before  the  family  assembled  at 
the  breakfast-table,  where  they  were  engaged  in  discussing  the 
affair  of  the  previous  night,  and  in  each  maintaining  his  or 
her  own  opinion  as  to  its  character;  Claudia  persisting  that 
it  was  the  Viscount  Vincent  in  person  that  she  had  seen; 
Berenice  contending  that  it  was  a  dream ;  and  the  judge  hesi- 
tating between  two  opinions;  Ishmael  silent. 

"A  very  few  hours  will  now  decide  the  question,"  said 
Claudia,  abandoning  the  discussion  and  beginning  to  chip  her 
egg. 

At  this  moment  came  a  sound  of  wheels  on  the  drive  be- 
fore the  house,  followed  by  a  loud  knock  at  the  door. 

"There!  I  should  not  in  the  least  wonder  if  that  is  not  a 
detachment  of  police  coming  to  tell  us  that  Lord  Vincent  has 
broken  prison,  and  bringing  a  warrant  to  search  this  house 
for  him,"  said  Claudia,  half  rising  to  listen. 

A  servant  entered  the  room  and  said : 

"Sergeant  McRae  is  oat  in  the  hall,  asking  to  see  his  honor 
the  judge." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Claudia,  briskly. 

The  judge  went  out  to  see  the  sergeant  of  police. 

Claudia  and  Berenice  suspended  their  breakfast,  and  wait- 
ed in  intense  anxiety  the  result  of  the  interview. 

Some  little  time  elapsed,  perhaps  fifteen  or  twenty  min- 
utes, though  the  impatience  of  the  ladies  made  it  seem  an 
hour  in  length,  and  then  the  door  slowly  opened  and  the  judge 
gravely  re-entered  the  breakfast-room. 

"It  is  as  I  said!  The  Viscount  Vincent  has  broken  gaol, 
and  they  have  come  here  with  a  search  warant  to  look  for 
him !"  exclaimed  Claudia,  glancing  up  at  her  father  as  he  ap- 
proached; but  when  she  saw  the  expression  of  profound  mel- 
ancholy in  his  countenance  she  started,  turned  pale,  and 
cried : 

"Good  heaven,  papa !  what — what  has  happened  ?" 
"Partly  what  you  have  anticipated,  Claudia.    The  Viscount 
Vincent  has  broken  out  of  prison,  but  not  in  the  manner  you 
supposed!"  solemnly  replied  the  judge,  taking  his  daughter's 
arm  and  leading  her  to  a  sofa  and  seating  her  upon  it. 

Lady  Hurstmonceux,  startled,  anxious  and  alarmed,  fol- 
lowed and  stood  by  her  and  held  her  hand.  And  both  ladies 
gazed  inquiringly  into  the  disturbed  face  of  the  old  m.an. 

"There  is  something — something  behind !  What  is  it,  papa  ? 
The  viscount  has  broken  gaol,  you  say!  Has  he — has  he — • 
killed  one  of  the  guards  in  making  his  escape?"  inquired 
Claudia,  in  a  low,  awe-stricken  voice. 

"'No,  my  dear,  he  has  not  done  that.    He  has  escaped  th€| 


270  News  for  Claudia. 

tribunal  of  man  to  rush  uncalled  to  the  tribunal  of  God!" 
said  the  judge,  solemnly. 

Claudia,  though  her  dilated  eyes  were  fixed  in  eager  ques- 
tioning on  the  face  of  her  father,  and  though  her  ears  were 
strained  to  catch  his  low-toned  words,  yet  did  not  seem  to 
gather  in  his  meaning. 

"What — what  do  you  say,  papa?  Explain!"  she  breathed, 
in  scarcely  audible  syllables. 

"The  Viscount  Vincent  is  dead!" 

"Dead !"  ejaculated  Claudia. 

"Dead!"  echoed  the  countess. 

"Dead,  by  his  own  act  I"  repeated  the  judge. 

Claudia  sank  back  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands — overcome,  not  by  sorrow  certainly, 
but  by  awe  and  pity. 

Berenice  sat  down  beside  the  newly  made  widow,  and  put 
her  arms  around  her  waist,  and  drew  her  head  upon  her 
bosom. 

Judge  Merlin  stood  silently  before  them. 

The  only  one  who  seemed  to  have  the  full  possession  of  his 
faculties  was  Ishmael. 

He  quietly  dismissed  the  gaping  servants  from  the  room, 
closed  the  doors,  and  drew  a  resting-chair  to  the  side  of  his 
old  friend,  and  gently  constrained  him  to  sit  down  in  it.  And 
then  he  was  about  to  glide  away,  when  the  judge  seized  his 
hand  and  detained  him,  saying,  imploringly: 

"No,  no,  Ishmael !  no,  no,  my  dearest  young  friend  !  do  not 
leave  us  at  this  solemn  crisis." 

Ishmael  placed  his  hand  in  that  of  the  old  man,  as  an 
earnest  of  fidelity,  and  remained  standing  by  him. 

After  a  little  while  Claudia  lifted  her  head  from  the  bosom 
of  Lady  Hurstraonceux,  and  said: 

"Oh,  papa,  this  is  dreadful!" 

"Dreadful,  indeed,  my  dear." 

"That  any  human  being  should  be  driven  to  such  a  fat« !" 

"To  such  a  crime,  Claudia,"  gravely  amended  the  judge. 

"Crime,  then,  if  you  will  call  it  so.  But  I  do  not  wonder  at 
it.  May  God,  in  His  infinite  mercy,  forgive  him !"  fervently 
prayed  Claudia. 

"Amen !"  deeply  responded  the  judge. 

"Papa,  they  say  that  suicides  are  never  forgiven — can  never 
be  forgiven — because  their  sin  is  the  last  act  of  their  life, 
affording  no  time  for  repentance.  Yet  who  knows  that  for 
certain?  Who  knows  but  in  the  short  interval  between  the 
deed  and  the  death  there  may  not  be  repentance  and  par- 
don !" 

"Who  knows,  indeed !    'With  God  all  things  are  possible.'  "■ 

"Oh,  papa,  I  hope  he  repented  or^d  is  pardoned!" 

"I  hope  so,  too,  Claudia.". 


News  for  Claudia.  27s 

She  dropped  ter  head  once  more  upon  the  bosom  of  Lady 
Hurstmonceux,  in  pity  and  in  awe ;  but  not  in  sorrow,  for  his 
death  was  an  infinite  relief  to  her  and  to  all  connected  with 
him. 

After  a  little  while  she  raised  her  head  again,  and  in  a  low, 
hushed  voice  inquired: 

"Papa,  at  what  hour  did  he  die  ?" 

"Between  four  and  five  o'clock  this  morning,  my  dear." 

"Between  four  and  five  o'clock  this  morning!  Good  heav- 
ens !"  exclaimed  Claudia  and  Berenice  simultaneously,  start- 
ing and  gazing  into  each  other's  faces. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?"  gravely  inquired  the  judge. 

"That  was  the  very  hour  in  which  Claudia  was  awakened 
by  her  strange  dream !"  replied  Lady  Hurstmonceux. 

"Oh,  papa!  that  was  the  very  hour  in  which  I  saw  Lord 
Vincent  standing  at  the  foot  of  my  bed!"  exclaimed  Claudia, 
with  a  shudder. 

"How  passing  strange !"  mused  the  judge. 

"Oh,  papa !  can  such  things  really  be  ?  can  a  parting  spirit 
appear  to  us  the  moment  it  leaves  the  body  ?"  inquired  Clau- 
dia, in  an  awe-struck  manner. 

"Hy  dearest,  if  any  one  had  related  to  me  such  a  strange 
circumstance  as  this,  of  which  we  are  all  partly  cognizant, 
I  should  have  discredited  the  whole  affair.  As  it  is,  I  know 
not  what  to  make  of  it.  It  may  have  been  a  dream;  nay,  it 
must  have  been  a  dream ;  yet  even  as  a  dream,  occurring  just 
at  the  hour  it  did,  it  was  certainly  an  astonishing,  a  marvel- 
ous coincidence." 

Again  Claudia  dropped  her  head  upon  the  supporting 
bosom  of  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  but  this  time  it  was  in  weari- 
ness and  in  thought  that  she  reposed  there. 

A  few  minutes  passed,  and  then,  without  lifting  her  head, 
she  murmured : 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  papa;  I  must  learn  some  time;  aa 
well  now  as  at  any  other." 

"Can  you  bear  to  hear  the  story  now,  Claudia  ?" 

"Better  now,  I  think,  than  at  a  future  time;  I  am  in  as 
measure  prepared  for  it  now.    How  did  it  happen,  papa?" 

The  judge  drew  closer  to  his  daughter,  took  her  hand  in 
his,  and  said:  ^ 

"I  will  tell  you,  as  HcRae  told  me,  my  dear.  Tou  must 
know  that  from  the  time  Lord  Vincent  read  the  published 
confession  of  Frisbie,  in  the  afternoon  papers,  he  became  so 
much  changed  in  all  respects  as  to  excite  the  attention,  then 
the  Buspicion,  and  finally  the  alana  of  his  keepers.  At  six 
o'clock,  after  the  turnkey,  Donald,  had  paid  his  last  visit  to 
his  prisoner,  and  locked  up  the  cell  for  the  night,  he  reported 
the  condition  of  Lord  Vincent  to  the  governor  of  the  gaol. 
M.T.  Gra'atn©,  on  hearing  the  account  given  by  Donald,  de« 


272  News  for  Claudia. 

termined  to  curtail  raauy  of  the  privileges  his  lordship  had 
hitherto,  as  an  untried  prisoner,  enjoyed.  Among  the  rest 
he  determined  that  nothing  more  should  be  carried  to  hifj  lord- 
ship in  his  cell  that  he,  the  governor,  had  not  first  examined, 
as  a  precautionary  measure  against  drugs  or  tools,  with  v?hich 
the  prisoner  might  do  himself  a  mischief." 

"I  should  think  they  ought  to  have  taken  that  precaution 
from  the  first,"  said  Claudia. 

"It  is  not  usual  in  the  case  of  an  untried  prisoner;  but, 
however,  the  governor  of  Banff  gaol  seemed  to  think  as  you 
do,  for  he  farther  determined  to  make  a  special  visit  to  the 
prisoner  that  night,  to  search  his  cell  and  remove  from  it 
everything  with  which  ho  might  possibly  injure  himself.  And 
accordingly  the  governor,  accompanied  by  the  turnkey,  went 
to  the  cell  and  made  a  thorough  search.  They  foiind  nothing 
suspicious,  however.  But  in  their  late  though  excessive  cau- 
tion they  carried  away,  not  only  the  prisoner's  razor,  but  his 
pen-knife  and  scissors.     And  then  they  left  him." 

"And,  after  all,  left  him  with  the  means  of  self-destruc- 
tion," exclaimed  Claudia. 

"No,  they  did  not.     You  shall  hear.     About  eight  o'clock 
that  night,  as  the  watchman  of  that  ward  was  pacing  his 
rounds,  he  heard  deep  groans  issuing  from  Lord  Vincent's 
cell.    He  went  and  gave  the  alarm.     The  warden,  the  phy- 
sician and  the  turnkey  entered  the  cell  together.     They  found 
the  Viscount  Vincent  in  the  agonies  of  death." 
"Great  heaven!     Alone  and  dying  in  his  cell!" 
"Yes;  and  suffering  even  more  distress  of  mind  than  of 
body.    When  it  was  too  late  he  repented  his  rash  deed;  for  he 
freely  confessed  that,  being  driven  to  despair  and  almost,  if 
not  quite,  to  madness,  by  the  desperate  state  of  his  affairs, 
he  had  procured  laudanum  through  the  agency  of  his  serv- 
ant, having  persuaded  the  old  man  that  he  only  wanted  the 
medicine  to  allay  pain." 
"Poor,  poor  soul !" 

"Cuthbert,  simple  and  unsuspicious,  and  as  easily  deceived 
as  a  child,  brought  the  laudanum  to  him  and  bid  him  adieu 
for  the  night.  And  it  was  in  the  interval  between  the  last 
visit  of  the  turnkey  aud  the  special  visit  of  the  governor  that 
the  prisoner  drank  the  whole  of  the  laudanum.  Aud  then, 
to  prevent  suspicion,  he  washed  the  label  from  the  bottle  and 
poui-ed  into  it  a  little  ink  from  the  inkstand.  So  that  when 
the  governor  made  his  visit  of  inspection,  although  heactually 
handled  that  bottle,  he  took  it  for  nothing  else  but  a  recep- 
tacle for  ink." 

''Oh,  how  dreadfiil!  how  dreadful,  that  any  one  should  ex- 
brcise  so  much  calculation,  cunning  and  foresight  for  the  d©« 
Struction  of  his  own  soul !"  moaned  Claudia. 
=^'Yea!  he  himseK  thought  so  at  laatl  for  ao  soonar  did  tha 


News  for  Claudia,  273 

poison  ^egln  to  do  its  work,  no  sooner  did  he  feel  death  ap- 
proaching him,  than  he  was  seized  with  horror  at  the  enor- 
mity  of  his  own  crime,  and  with  remorse  for  the  sins  of  his 
whole  life.  It  would  seem  that  in  that  hour  his  eyes  were 
opened  for  the  first  time,  and  he  saw  himself  as  he  really  was, 
a  rampant  rebel  against  all  the  laws  of  God  and  on  the  brink 
of  eternal  perdition.  It  was  the  great  agony  of  mind  pro- 
duced by  this  view  of  himself  and  his  condition  that  forced 
from  him  those  deep  groans  that  were  heard  by  the  night- 
watch  who  brought  the  relief  to  him." 

"Then  he  must  have  repented.  Oh  I  I  hope  that  God  for- 
gave him!"  prayed  Claudia,  with  earnest  tones  and  clasped 
hands. 

"You  may  be  sure  that  God  did  forgive  him  if  he  truly  re- 
pented !  Certainly  it  seemed  that  he  repented ;  for  he  begged 
for  antidotes,  declaring  that  he  wished  to  live  to  atone  by 
his  future  life  for  the  sins  of  his  past.  Antidotes  wore  ad- 
ministered, but  without  the  least  good  effect.  And  when  he 
repeated  his  earnest  wish  to  be  permitted  to  live  that  he  might 
'atone  by  his  future  life  for  the  sins  of  his  past,'  the  physician, 
who  is  a  good  man,  sent  for  the  chaplain  of  the  jail,  a  fervent 
Christian,  who  told  the  prisoner  how  impossible  it  was  for 
him,  should  he  have  a  new  lease  of  life,  to  atone,  by  years  of 
penance,  for  the  smallest  sin  of  his  soul !  but  pointed  him  at 
the  same  time  to  the  One  Divine  Atoner,  who  is  able  to  save 
to  the  uttermost !  The  chaplain  remained  praying  with  the 
dying  man  until  half-past  four  o'clock  this  morning,  when 
he  breathed  his  last !     That  is  all,  Claudia." 

"Oh,  papa,  you  see  he  did  repent;  and  I  will  hope  that 
God  has  pardoned  him !"  said  Claudia,  earnestly ;  but  she  was 
very  pale  and  faint,  and  she  leaned  heavily  upon  the  shoul- 
der of  Lady  Hurstmonceux. 

"My  dearest  Claudia,  let  me  lead  you  to  your  room;  you 
require  repose  after  this  excitement,"  said  the  countess,  giv- 
ing her  arm  to  the  new  widow. 

Claudia  arose,  but  the  judge  gently  arrested  her  progress. 

"Stay,  my  dear!  One  word  before  you  go.  The  business 
of  McRae  here  was  not  only  to  announce  the  death  of  Lord 
Vincent,  but  also  the  approaching  trial  of  Faustina  Dugald. 
It  comes  off  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  You  are 
summoned  as  a  witness  for  the  prosecution.  Therefore,  my 
dear,  we  must  leave  Edinboro'  for  Banff  by  the  afternoon  ex- 
press train." 

"Oh,  papa !  to  appear  in  a  public  court  at  such  a  timei"  es-^ 
claimed  Claudia,  with  a  shudder. 

"I  know  it  is  hard,  my  dear !  I  know  It  must  be  dreacffUl ! 
but  I  also  know  that  the  way  to  Justice  is  like  the  progress 
of  the  Car  of  Juggernaut !  It  stops  for  nothing !  it  rolls  on 
in  its  irresistible  course,  crushing   inder  its  iron  wheels  all 


274  News  for  Claudia. 

conventionalities,  all  proprieties,  all  sensibilities.  And  T  know, 
also,  my  daughter,  that  you  are  equal  to  the  duties,  the  exer- 
tions and  the  sacrifices  that  Justice  requires  of  you !  There, 
go  now!  take  what  repose  you  can  for  the  next  few  hours,  to 
be  ready  for  the  train  at  six  o'clock,"  said  the  judge,  stoop- 
ing and  pressing  a  kiss  upon  his  daughter's  brow  before  the 
countess  led  her  away. 

"Ishmael,"  said  the  judge,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone,  "do 
you  know  what  you  and  I  have  got  to  do  now?" 
"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  young  man,  solemnly,  "I  know." 
"That  poor,  unhappy  man  in  yonder  prison  has  no  friend 
or  relative  to  claim  his  body,  his  father  being  absent;  and 
if  we  do  not  claim  it,  it  will  be  ignominiously  buried  by  the 
prison  authorities  within  the  prison  walls." 

"I  thought  of  that,  but  waited  for  your  suggestion.  If 
you  please,  I  will  see  the  proper  authorities  to-morrow  and 
make  arrangements  with  them." 

"Do  so,  my  dear  young  friend,"  said  the  judge,  wringing 
his  hand  as  he  left  him. 

Amid  the  great  crises  of  life  its  small  proprieties  must  still 
be  olaserved.  This  tbe  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux  knew.  And, 
therefore,  as  soon  as  she  had  seen  Claudia  reposing  on  her 
comfortable  sofa  in  her  chamber  she  ordered  her  carriage 
and  drove  to  Edinboro',  and  to  a  celebrated  mourning  ware- 
house, where  they  got  up  outfits  on  the  shortest  notice,  and 
there  she  procured  a  widow's  complete  dress,  including  the 
gown,  mantle,  bonnet,  veil  and  gloves,  and  took  them  home  to 
Claudia.  For  she  knew  thtit  if  Xady  Vincent  were  compelled 
to  appear  in  the  public  court-room  the  next  day,  she  must 
wear  her  widow's  weeds. 

When  she  took  these  articles  into  Claudia's  room  and 
showed  them  to  her,  the  latter  said: 

"My  dear  Berenice,  I  thardc  you  very  much  for  your 
thoughtful  care.  But  do  you  know  it  would  seem  like  hypoc- 
risy in  me  to  wear  this  mourning?" 

"My  dearest  Claudia,  conventionalities  must  be  observed 
tliough  the  heavens  fall.  You  owe  this  to  yourself,  to  so- 
ciety, and  even  to  the  dead — for  in  his  death  he  has  atoned 
for  much  to  you." 

"I  will  wear  them,  then,"  s&id  Claudia. 
And  there  the  matter  ended. 

Meanwhile,  the  news  of  Lord  Vincent's  death  had  gone 
about  among  the  servants.  Katie  and  Sally  among  the  rest 
had  heard  of  it. 

So  that  when  Lady  Vincent  rang  for  her  women  to  come 
and  pack  up  her  traveling  trunk  to  go  to  Banff,  Katie  en- 
tered full  of  the  subject. 

-^So  my  lordship  has  gone  to  his  account,  and  all  from 
tflkin'  an  overdose  of  laudamy  drops.     How  careful  people 


The  Fate  of  Faustmao  275 

ought  to  be  when  then  meddles  long  o'  dat  sort  o'  truck. 
Well,  laws!  long  as  he's  dead  and  gone  I  forgibs  him  for 
heavin'  of  me  down  to  lib  long  o'  de  rats,  and  den  aellin* 
ob  me  to  de  barbariums  in  de  Stingy  Isles.  'Deed  does  I 
forgibs  him  good,  too,  and  likewise  de  shamwally  while  Tse 
got  my  hand  in  at  forgibness,"  she  said. 

"That  is  right,  Katie,  Never  let  your  hatred  follow  a 
man  to  the  grave,"  said  Claudia. 

"I  wouldn't  forgib  'em  if  dey  wasn't  dead,  dough.  'Deed 
wouldn't  I.  I  tell  you  all  good,  too.  And  if  dey  was  to 
come  back  to  life  I  would  just  take  my  forgibness  back  again. 
And  it  should  all  be  just  like  it  was  before,"  said  Katie, 
sharply  defining  her  position. 

Claudia  sadly  shook  her  head. 

"That  is  a  very  questionable  species  of  forgiveness,  Katie," 
she  said. 

That  afternoon  the  whole  party,  including  the  Countess 
of  Hurstmonceux,  who  declared  her  intention  of  supporting 
Claudia  through  the  approaching  ordeal,  left  Cameron  Court 
for  Edinboro',  where  they  took  the  six  o'clock  train  for 
Banff,  where  they  arrived  at  ten  the  same  evening. 

They  went  to  the  "Highlander,"  where  they  engaged  com- 
fortable apartments  and  settled  themselves  for  a  few  days. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE     FATE     OF     FAUSTINA. 

Early  the  next  morning  Ishmael  went  over  to  the  prison 
to  see  the  governor  relative  to  the  removal  of  the  body  of  the 
unhappy  Vincent.  But  he  was  told  that  the  old  Earl  of 
Hurstmonceux  had  arrived  at  noon  on  the  previous  day  and 
had  claimed  the  body  of  his  son  and  had  it  removed  from  the 
prison  in  a  close  hearse  at  the  dead  of  night,  to  escape  the 
observation  of  the  mob,  and  conveyed  to  Castle  Cragg,  where, 
without  any  funeral  pomp,  it  would  be  quietly  deposited  in 
the  family  vault. 

With  this  intelligence  Ishmael  came  back  to  Judge  Merlin. 

"That  is  well !  That  is  a  great  relief  to  my  mind,  Ishmael,'' 
said  the  judge,  and  he  went  to  convey  the  news  to  Lady  Vin- 
cent and  the  countess. 

At  nine  o'clock  Katie,  Sally  and  Jim,  who  were  all  wit- 
nesses for  the  prosecution  in  the  approaching  trial  of  Eaus- 
tina  Dugald,  were  dispatched  to  the  court-house,  under  the 
escort  of  the  professor. 

At  half -past  nine  Judge  Merlin,  Ishmael  Worth,  Lady  Vin- 
cent and  the  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux  entered  a  closed 
carriage  and  drove  to  the  same  place. 

What  a  crowd] 

18 


t^6 


The  Fate  of  Faustina. 


It  is  not  every  day  that  a  woman  of  high  rank  stands  al 
the  bar  of  a  criminal  court  to  answer  to  a  charge  of  felony. 
And  Faustina  was  a  woman  of  high  rank,  at  least  by  mar- 
riage. She  was  the  Honorable  Mrs  Dugald;  and  she  was 
about  to  be  arraigned  upon  several  grave  charges,  the  lightest 
one  of  which,  if  proved,  would  consign  her  to  penal  servitude 
for  years. 

The  world  had  got  wind  of  this  trial,  and  hence  the  great 
crowd  that  blocked  up  every  approach  to  the  court-house. 

Two  policemen  had  to  clear  a  way  for  the  carriage  con- 
taining the  witnesses  for  the  prosecution  to  draw  up. 

And  when  it  stopped  and  its  party  alighted,  the  same  two 
policemen  had  to  walk  before  them  to  open  a  path  for  their 
entrance  into  the  court-house. 

Here  every  lobby,  staircase,  passage  and  ante-room  were 
full  of  curious  people,  pressed  against  each  other.  These 
people  could  not  get  into  the  court-room,  which  was  already 
crowded  as  full  as  it  could  be  packed;  nor  could  they  see  or 
hear  anything  from  where  they  stood;  and  yet  they  per- 
sisted in  standing  there,  crowding  each  other  nearly  to  death, 
and  stretching  their  necks  and  straining  their  eyes  and  ears 
after  sensational  sights  and  sounds. 

Through  this  consolidated  mass  of  human  beings  the  po- 
licemen found  great  difficulty  in  forcing  a  passage  for  the 
witnesses.  But  at  length  they  succeeded,  and  ushered  the 
party  into  the  court-room,  and  seated  them  upon  the  bench 
appointed  to  the  use  of  the  witnesses  for  the  prosecution. 

The  court-room  was  even  more  densely  packed  than  the 
approaches  to  it  had  been.  It  was  scarcely  possible  to  breathe 
the  air,  laden  with  the  breath  of  so  many  human  beings. 

But  for  the  inconvenience  of  the  great  crowd  and  the 
foetid  air  this  was  an  interesting  place  to  pass  a  few  hours  in. 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron,  Sir  Archibald  Alexander,  presided 
on  the  bench.  He  was  supported  on  the  right  and  left  by 
Justices  Knox  and  Blair. 

Some  of  the  most  distinguished  advocates  of  the  Scottish 
bar  were  present. 

The  prisoner  had  not  yet  been  brought  into  court. 

A  few  minutes  passed,  however,  and  then,  by  the  commo- 
tion near  the  door  and  by  the  turning  simultaneously  of 
hundreds  of  heads  in  one  direction,  it  was  discovered  that 
she  was  approaching  in  custody  of  the  proper  officers.  Room 
was  readily  made  for  her  by  the  crowd  dividing  right  and 
left  and  pressing  back  upon  itself,  like  the  waves  of  the  Red 
Sea,  when  the  Israelites  passed  over  it  dry  shod.  And  she 
was  led  up  between  two  bailiffs  and  placed  in  the  dock.  Then 
for  the  first  time  the  crowd  got  a  good  view  of  her,  for  the 
dock  was  raised  some  three  or  four  feet  above  the  level  of  tht 
floor. 


The  Fate  of  Faustina.  '277 

She  was  well  dressed  for  the  pccasion,  for  if  there  was  one 
thing  this  woman  understood  better  than  another,  it  was  the 
science  of  th©  toilet.  She  wore  a  dark  brown  silk  dress 
and  a  dark  brown  velvet  bonnet,  and  a  Russian  sable  cloak, 
and  cuffs,  and  muff,  and  her  face  was  shaded  by  a  delicate 
black  lace  veil. 

Mrs.  MacDonald,  who  had  followed  her  into  the  court,  was 
allowed  to  sit  beside  her;  a  privilege  that  the  lady  availed 
herself  of,  at  some  considerable  damage  to  her  own  personal 
dignity;  for  at  least  one-haK  of  the  strangers  in  the  room, 
judging  from  her  position  beside  the  criminal,  mistook  her 
for  an  accomplice  in  the  crime. 

After  the  usual  preliminary  forms  had  been  observed, 
the  prisoner  was  duly  arraigned  at  the  bar. 

When  asked  by  the  clerk  of  arraignments  whether  she  were 
guilty  or  not  guilty  she  answered  vehemently: 

"I  am  not  guilty  of  anything  at  all,  no,  not  I !  I  never  did 
cospire  against  any  lady !  My  Lord  Viscount  Vincent  and 
his  valet  Frisbie  did  that !  And  I  never  did  abduct  and  sell 
into  slavery  any  negro  persons!  My  Lord  Vincent  and  his 
valet  did  that  also!  It  was  all  the  doings  of  my  lord  and 
his  valet,  as  you  might  know,  since  the  valet  has  been  guil- 
lotined and  my  iord  has  suffocated  himself  with  charcoal  I 
And  it  is  a  great  infamy  to  persecute  a  poor  little  woman  for 
what  gross  big  men  did !    And  I  tell  you,  messieurs—^ — " 

"That  will  do !  This  is  no  time  for  making  your  defense, 
bnt  only  for  entering  your  plea,"  said  the  clerk,  cutting  short 
her  oration. 

She  threw  herself  into  a  chair  and  burst  into  teal's,  and 
Bobbed  aloud  while  the  Queen's  Solicitor,  Counsellor  Birnie, 
got  up  to  open  the  indictment — setting  forth  the  charges 
upon  which  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  had  been  arraigned. 

At  the  end  of  the  opening  speech  he  proceeded  to  call  the 
witnesses,  and  the  first  one  called  to  the  stand  was : 

"Claudia  Dugald,  Viscountess  Vincent." 

Judge  Merlin  arose  and  led  his  daughter  to  the  stand,  and 
then  retired. 

Claudia  threw  aside  her  deep  mourning  veil,  revealing  her 
beautiful  pale  face,  at  the  sight  of  which  a  murmur  of  ad- 
miration ran  through  the  crowded  court-room. 

The  oath  was  duly  administered,  Claudia  following  the 
words  of  the  formtda,  in  a  low,  but  clear  and  firm  voice. 

Oh !  but  her  position  was  a  painful  one !  Gladly  would  she 
have  retired  from  it;  but  the  exactions  of  justice  are  inex- 
orable.^ It  was  distressing  to  her  to  stand  there  and  give 
testimony  against  the  prisoner,  which  should  cast  such  shame 
upon  the  gra7e  of  the  dumb,  defenseless  dead,  yet  it  was  in- 
(»vitable  that  she  must  do  it.    She  w«s  vastier.  Qatb.>  and  bq 


278  The  Fate  of  Faustina. 

she  must  testify  to  "the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  uothing 
but  the  truth!" 

Then  being  questioned,  she  spolce  of  the  sinful  league  be- 
tween Faustina  Dugald,  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  and  the 
deceased,  Viscount  Vincent;  she  related  the  conversation  she 
had  overheard  between  these  two  accomplices  on  the  very 
night  of  her  first  arrival  home  at  Castle  Cragg;  that  momen- 
tous conversation  in  which  the  first  germ  of  the  conspiracy 
against  her  honor  was  formed;  being  further  questioned,  she 
acknowledged  the  complete  estrangement  between  herself  and 
her  husband,  and  the  actual  state  of  widowhood  in  which  she 
had  lived  in  his  house,  while  his  time  and  attention  were  all 
devoted  to  her  rival,  the  i)risoner  at  the  bar. 

Here  Claudia  begged  leave  to  retire  from  the  stand;  but 
of  course  she  was  not  permitted  to  do  bo  ;  the  Queen's  Solic- 
itor had  not  done  with  her  yet.  She  was  required  to  relate 
the  incidents  of  that  evening  when  the  valet  Frisbie  waa 
dragged  from  Lis  hiding-place  in  her  boudoir  by  the  Viscount 
Vincent. 

And  amid  fiery  blushes  Claudia  detailed  all  the  circum- 
stances of  that  scene. 

She  was  but  slightly  cross-questioned  by  the  counsel  for  the 
prisoner,  and  without  effect,  and  was  finally  permitted  to  re- 
tire.   Her  father  came  and  led  her  back  to  her  seat. 

Ther  housekeeper  of  Castle  Cragg  was  the  next  witness 
called,  and  she  testified  with  a  marked  reluctance,  that  only 
served  to  give  additional  weight  to  her  statement,  to  the 
the  sinful  intimacy  between  the  deceased  viscount  and  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar. 

Following  her  came  old  Cuthbert,  who  sadly  corroborated 
her  testimony  in  all  respects. 

Next  came  other  servants  of  the  castle,  all  with  much  dis- 
like to  do  the  duly,  speaking  to  the  one  point  of  the  fatal 
attachment  that  had  existed  between  Lord  Vincent  and  lire. 
Dugald. 

And  then  at  length  came  Katie. 

Now,  we  all  know  the  facts  to  which  Katie  would  bear 
testimony,  and  the  style  in  which  she  would  do  it;  and  so  we 
need  not  repeat  her  statement  here.  It  was  sufficiently  con- 
clusive to  insure  the  conviction  of  the  prisoner,  even  if  there 
had  been  nothing  to  support  it. 

But  the  most  fatal  evidence  was  yet  to  be  produced. 

The  Reverend  Christian  Godfree,  chaplain  of  the  gaol, 
was  called  to  the  btand  and  duly  sworn.  And  then  a  majam- 
script  was  placed  in  his  hand,  and  he  was  asked  ii  he  could 
identify  that  as  the  veritable,  last  confession  made  by  the 
convict,  Alick  Frisbie,  in  his  cell,  on  t^e  night  previous  t« 
his  execution- 


The  Fate  of  Faustina.  279 

Mr.  Godfree  carefully  examined  it  and  promptly  identi- 
fied it. 

But  here  tlie  counsel  for  the  prisoner  interposed,  and 
would  have  had  the  confession  ruled  out  as  evidence ;  and 
a  controversy  ai'ose  between  the  prosecution  and  the  defense, 
which  was  at  last  decided  by  the  bench,  who  ordered  that  the 
confession  of  Ahck  Frisbie  should  be  received  as  evidence  in 
the  qase  of  Faustina  Dugald. 

And  then  the  Queen's  Solicitor,  taking  the  paper  from  the 
witness,  proceed^  to  read  the  confession  with  all  its  deeply 
disgracefxil  revelations.  From  it,  the  comphcity  of  Faustina 
Dugald  in  the  conspnacy  against  Lady  Vincent  was  clearly 
shown.  Having  read  it  through,  the  solicitor  called  several 
witnesses  from  among  the  servants  of  the  castle,  who  swore 
to  the  signature  at  the  bottom  of  the  confession  as  the  hand- 
writing of  Alick  Frisbie.  And  then  the  solicitor  passed  the 
paper  to  the  foreman  of  the  jm-y,  that  he  might  circulate  it 
among  his  colleagues  for  their  examination  and  satisfaction. 

The  solicitor  then  summed  up  the  evidence  for  the  prose- 
cution and  rested  the  case. 

Mr.  Bruce,  leading  counsel  for  the  prisoner,  arose  and 
made  the  best  defense  that  the  bad  case  admitted  of.  He 
tried  to  pull  to  pieces,  destroy  and  discredit  the  evidence 
that  had  been  given  in;  but  all  to  no  purpose.  He  next  tried 
to  engage  the  sympathy  of  the  judge  and  jury  for  the  beauty 
and  misfortunes  of  his  client;  but  in  vain.  Finally,  he  called 
a  number  of  paid  witnesses,  who  testified  chiefly  to  the  ex- 
cellent moral  character  of  Mrs.  Faustina  Dugald,  seeking  to 
make  it  appear  quite  impossible  that  she  should  do  any  wrong 
whatever,  much  less  commit  the  crimes  for  which  she  stood 
arraigned ;  and  also  to  the  malignant  envy,  hatred,  and  mal- 
ice felt  by  every  servant  at  Castle  Cragg  and  every  witness 
for  the  prosecution  against  the  injured  and  unhappy  prisoner 
at  the  bar,  seeking  to  make  it  appear  that  all  their  testimony 
was  nothing  but  mahgnant  calumny  leveled  against  injured 
innocence. 

But,  unfortunately  for  the  defense,  the  only  impression 
these  witnesses  made  upon  the  judge  and  the  jury  was  that 
they — the  witnesses — ^were  about  the  most  shameless  falsifiers 
of  the  truth  that  ever  perjured  themselves  before  a  court  of 
justice. 

The  counsel  for  the  prisoner  went  over  the  evidence  for 
the  defense  in  an  eloquent  speech,  which  was  worse  than 
wasted  in  such  evil  service. 
,'    "The  Queen's  Solicitor  had,  as  usual,  the  last  word. 

'  The  Lord  Chief  Baron  then  summed  up  the  evidence  on 
either  side  and  charged  the  jury.  And  the  charge  amounted 
in  effect  to  an  instruction  to  them  to  bring  in  a  verdict 
against  the  prisoner. 


28o  The  Fate  of  Faustina. 

"Krid  accordingly  the  jury  retired  and  consulted  aboTilB 
twenty  minutes,  and  then  returned  with  the  verdict: 

"Guilty  1" 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron  arose  to  pronounce  the  sentence  of 
the  law. 

The  clerk  of  the  arraigns  ordered  the  prisoner  to  stand  up. 

"What  are  they  going  to  do  now?"  nervously  inquired 
Faustina,  who  did  not  in  the  least  understand  what  was  going 
on. 

"Nothing  much,  my  dear;  his  lordship  the  judge  is  going 
to  speak  to  you  from  the  bench.  That  is  all,"  said  Mrs. 
MacDonald,  as  she  helped  the  prisoner  to  her  feet;  for  Mrs. 
MacDonald  never  hesitated  to  tell  a  falsehood  for  the  sake 
of  keeping  the  peace. 

Faustina  stood  up,  looking  toward  the  bench  with  curios- 
ity, distrust  and  fear. 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron  began  the  usual  prosing  preamble 
to  the  sentence,  telling  the  prisoner  of  the  enormity  of  the 
crime  of  which  she  had  been  accused;  of  the  perfect  impar- 
tiality of  the  trial  to  which  she  had  been  subjected,  the  com- 
plete conclusiveness  of  the  evidence  on  which  she  had  been 
convicted ;  and  so  forth.  He  gave  her  to  understand  that  the 
court  might  easily  se  xtence  her  to  fifteen  or  twenty  years' 
imprisonment;  but  that,  in  consideration  of  her  early  youth 
and  of  her  utter  failure  to  carry  out  her  felonious  purposes 
to  their  completion,  he  would  assign  her  a  milder  penalty. 
And  he  proceeded  to  sentence  her  to  penal  servitude  for  the 
term  of  ten  years. 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron  resumed  his  seat. 

Faustina  threw  a  wild,  perplexed,  appealing  glance  around 
the  court-room,  and  -hen,  as  the  truth  of  her  doom  entered 
her  soul,  she  uttered  a  piercing  shriek  and  fell  into  violent 
hysterics.  And  in  this  condition  she  was  removed  from  the 
court  to  the  gaol,  there  to  remain  until  she  should  be  trans- 
ported to  the  scene  of  her  punishment. 

"We  have  nothing  more  to  do  here,  Judge  Merlin.  Had 
you  not  better  take  Lady  Vincent  back  to  the  hotel?"  sug- 
gested Ishmael. 

The  judge,  who  had  been  sitting  as  if  spell-bound,  started 
up,  gave  his  arm  to  his  daughter,  and  led  her  out  of  the  court 
and  to  the  fly  that  was  in  attendance  to  convey  them  back  to 
the  "Highlander." 

Ishmael  followed,  with  the  countess  on  his  arm. 

And  the  professor,  having  the  three  negroes  in  charge, 
brought  up  the  rear. 

Judge  Merlin,  Ishmael,  Claudia  and  the  countess  entered 
the  fly.    The  professor  and  his  charge  walked. 

And  thus  they  refiched  the  "Highlander,"  where  tha  news 
pf  Faustina  Dud^ald's  oonviction  had  preceded  than. 


Lady  Hurstmonceux's  Revelation.       281 

The  trial  had  occupied  the  whole  day.  It  was  now  late  in 
the  evening;  too  late  for  our  party  to  think  of  goins?  on  to 
Edinboro'  that  night.  Besides,  they  all  needed  rest  after  the 
exciting  scenes  of  the  day ;  and  so  they  determined  to  remaia 
in  Banff  that  night. 


CHAPTEE  XXXVin. 

LADY     hurstmonceux's     REVELATION. 

That  same  evening,  while  our  party  were  assembled  at  tea 
in  their  private  parlor,  at  the  "Highlander,"  a  letter  was 
brought  to  Judge  Merlin. 

It  was  a  formidable-looking  letter,  with  a  black  border  an 
inch  wide  running  around  the  envelope,  and  sealed  with  a 
great  round  of  black  wax,  impressed  with  an  earl's  coronet. 

The  judge  opened  and  read  it  and  passed  it  to  Ishmael. 

It  proved  to  be  a  letter  from  the  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux 
and  addressed  to  Judge  Merlin.  I  have  not  space  to  give  the 
contents  of  this  letter  word  for  word. 

It  set  forth,  in  effect,  that  under  the  recent  distressing  cir- 
cumstances it  would  be  too  painful  to  the  Earl  of  Hurstmon- 
ceux to  meet  Judge  Merlin  in  a  personal  interview.  But 
that  the  earl  wished  to  make  an  act  of  restitution.  And  so, 
if  Judge  Merlin  would  dispatch  his  solicitor  to  London  to  the 
chambers  of  the  Messrs.  Hudson,  in  Burton  street,  Piccadilly, 
those  gentlemen,  who  were  the  solicitors  of  his  lordship,  would 
be  prepared  to  restore  to  Lady  Vincent  the  fortune  she  had 
brought  in  marriage  to  her  husband,  the  late  Lord  Vincent. 

"You  will  go  to  London  and  attend  to  this  matter  for  me, 
Ishmael?"  inquired  the  judge,  as  he  received  the  letter  back, 
after  the  young  man  had  read  it. 

"Why,  certainly.  Judge  Merlin.  Who  should  act  for  you 
but  myself?"  said  Ishmael,  with  an  affectionate  smile. 

"But  it  may  be  inconvenient  for  you  to  go  just  now  ?"  sug- 
gested the  judge. 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all.  In  fact,  judge,  I  was  intending  to  go 
up  to  London  to  join  Mn  Brudeneli  there  in  a  very  few  days. 
I  was  only  waiting  for  this  trial  to  be  concluded  before  set- 
ting out,"  smiled  Ishmael. 

"Papa,  what  is  it  that  you  are  talking  about  ?  What  let- 
ter is  that?"  inquired  Claudia,  while  Lady  Hurstmonceux 
looked  the  question  she  forbore  to  ask. 

^  For  all  answer  the  judge  placed  the  letter  in  the  hands  of 
his  daughter,  and  then,  tvirning  to  the  countess,  said:  i 

"It  is  a  communication  from  Lord  Hurstmonceux,  refer- 
ring us  to  his  solicitors  in  London,  whom  he  has  instructed 
to  mako  restitution  of  the  whole  of  my  daughter's  fortuae," 


282       Lady  Hurstmonceux's  Revelation. 

"The  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux  is  an  honorable  man.  But  he 
has  been  singularly  unfortunate  in  his  family.  His  brother 
and  his  sons,  who  seem  to  have  taken  more  after  their  uncle 
than  their  father,  have  all  turned  out  badly  and  given  him 
much  trouble,"  said  the  countess. 

"His  brother  ?  I  knovp  of  course  the  career  of  his  sons ;  but 
I  did  not  know  anything  about  his  brother,"  said  Judge  Mer- 
lin. 

"He  was  the  Honorable  Dromlie  Dugald,  Captain  in  the 
Tenth  Highlanders,  a  man  whose  society  was  avoided  by  all 
good  women.  And  yet  I  had  cause  to  Icnow  him  well,"  an- 
swered the  countess,  as  a  cloud  passed  over  her  beautiful  face. 

"You,  Berenice!"  said  Claudia,  looking  up  in  surprise;  for 
it  was  passing  strange  to  hear  that  pure  and  noble  woman 
acknowledge  an  acquaintance  with  a  man  of  whom  she  had 
just  said  that  every  good  woman  avoided  his  society. 

"I!"  repeated  the  countess,  solemnly. 

There  was  certainly  fate"  in  the  nest  words  she  spoke: 

"This  Captain  Dugald  was  a  near  relative  and  great  fa- 
vorite with  my  first  husband,  the  old  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux ; 
chiefly,  I  think,  for  the  exuberant  gayety  of  temper  and  dis- 
position of  the  young  man,  that  always  kept  the  old  one 
amused.  But  after  the  earl  married  me,  he  turned  a  cold 
shoulder  to  the  captain,  and  complimented  me  by  being  jeal- 
ous of  him.  This  occasioned  gossip,  in  which  my  good  name 
suffered  some  injustice." 

The  countess  paused,  and  turned  her  beautiful  eyes  appeal- 
ingly  to  Ishmael,  saying: 

"When  you  shall  become  one  of  the  lawgivers  of  your  na- 
tive country,  young  gentleman,  I  hope  that  the  crime  of  slan- 
der will  be  made  a  felony,  indictable  before  your  criminal 
courts." 

"If  I  had  the  remodeling  of  the  laws,"  said  Ishmael,  ear- 
nestly, "slander  should  be  made  felonious  and  punishable  as 
theft  is." 

"'But,  dear  Berenice,  the  gossip  of  which  you  speak  could 
have  done  you  no  lasting  injury,"  said  Claudia. 

"  'No  lasting  injury !'  Well !  no  eternal  injury,  I  hope,  if 
you  mean  that,"  sighed  the  countess. 

"No,  I  mean  to  say  that  a  woman  like  yourself  lives  down 
calumny." 

"Ah  I  but  in.  th«  living  it  down,  how  much  of  heart-wast- 
ing 1" 

Thf  countos*  dropped  her  head  upon  her  hand  for  a 
moment,  while  aU  her  long  black  ringlets  fell  around  and 
veiled  hsr  pal»  and  thoTightful  face.  Than,  looking  up,  shf 
eaid: 

"I  think  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  Something,  I  know 
not  what,  impels  me  to  speak  to-uight,  in  this  little  circle 


Lady  Hurstmonceux's  Revelation.       283 

of  select  frienda,  on  a  theme  on  whicli  I  have  been  silent  for 
years.  Claudia,  my  dearest,  if  the  jealousy  of  my  old  hus- 
band and  the  gossip  of  my  envious  rivals  had  been  all,  that 
would  not  have  hurt  me  much.  But  there  was  worse  to  comoi 
The  wretch,  denied  admittance  to  our  house,  pursued  me  with 
his  attentions  elsewhere ;  whenever  and  wherever  I  walked  o? 
rode  out,  he  would  be  sure  to  join  me.  I  have  said  such 
was  his  evil  reputation  that  his  society  would  have  brought 
reproach  to  any  woman,  under  any  circmnstancee ;  judge  you, 
then,  what  it  must  have  brought  upon  me,  the  young  wife  of 
an  old  man!" 

"Had  you  no  male  relative  to  chastise  the  villain  and  send 
him  about  his  business  V  inquired  the  judge. 

Berenice  smiled  sadly  and  shook  her  head. 

"My  husband  and  my  father  were  both  very  old  men,"  she 
said ;  "I  had  but  one  resource — to  confine  myself  to  the  house 
and  deny  myself  to  visitors.  We  were  then  living  in  our 
tovm  house  in  Edinboro'.  There  my  old  husband  died,  and 
there  I  spent  the  year  of  my  widowhood.  There  my  father 
came  to  me,  and  also  my  kinsman,  Isaacs." 

"Isaacs!"  impulsively  exclaimed  Ishmael,  aa  his  thoughts 
Sew  back  to  his  Hebrew  fellow-passenger. 

"Yes ;  did  you  know  him  ?" 

"I  knew  a  Jew  of  that  name ;  most  probably  the  seme ;  but 
I  beg  your  pardon,  dear  lady;  pray  proceed  with  your  narra- 
tive." 

"I  mentioned  my  kinsman  Isaacs,  because  I  always  sus- 
pected him  to  be  a  party  to  a  stratagem,  formed  by  Captain 
Dugald  at  that  time  to  get  me  into  his  power.  Captain  Du- 
gald  scarcely  let  the  first  six  months  of  my  widowhood  pass 
by  before  he  began  to  lay  siege  to  my  house;  not  to  me, 
personally;  for  I  always  denied  myself  to  him.  But  he  came 
on  visits  to  my  kinsman  Isaacs,  with  whom  he  had  struck  up 
a  great  intimacy.  He  had  much  at  stake,  you  see,  for  in  the 
first  place  he  did  me  the  honor  to  approve  of  me  personally, 
and  in  the  second  place  he  highly  approved  of  my  large  for- 
tune. So  he  persevered  with  all  the  zeal  of  a  lover  and  all 
the  tact  of  a  fortune-hunter.  Several  times,  through  the  con- 
nivance of  my  kinsman,  he  contrived  to  surprise  me  into  an 
interview,  and  upon  each  occasion  he  urged  his  suit;  but, 
of  course,  in  vain.  Captain  Dugald  was  what  is  called  a 
*dare-devil/  and  I  think  he  rather  gloried  in  that  name.  He 
acted  upon  the  maxim  that  'all  stratagems  era  fair  in  love 
■as  in  war.*  And  he  resorted  to  a  stratagem  to  get  me  into 
his  power,  end  reduce  me  to  the  alternative  01,  marrying  him 
or  losing  my  good  name  forever." 

"Good  heavens !  he  did  not  attempt  to  carry  you  off  by  vi<H 
leneel"  exclaimed  Claudia. 

Xhe  countess  laughed 


So.;.      Lady  Hurstmonceux^s  Revelation. 

-  **0h,  no,  my  dear !  Such  things  are  never  attempted  In  thii 
age  of  the  world.  Captain  Dugald  was  far  too  astute  to  break 
the  laws  I  will  tell  you  just  how  it  was,  as  it  came  to  my 
own  knowledge.  My  town  house  fronted  immediately  on 
Prince's  street.  You  know  what  a  thoroughfare  that  is  ?  My 
bed-room  and  dressing-room  were  on  the  second  floor — the 
bed-room  being  at  the  back,  and  the  dressing-room  in  front, 
with  three  large  windows  overlooking  the  street.  Large, 
double  doors  connected  the  bed-room  with  the  dressing-room. 
I  am  thus  particular  in  describing  the  locality  that  you  may 
the  better  understand  the  villainy  of  the  stratagem,"  said  the 
countess,  looking  around  upon  her  friends. 

They  nodded  assent,  and  she  resumed : 

"From  some  peculiar  sensitiveness  of  temperament,  I  can 
never  sleep  unless  every  ray  of  light  is  shut  out  from  my 
chamber.  Thus,  at  bed-time  I  have  all  my  windows  closed, 
their  shutters  fastened  and  their  curtains  drawn  lest  the  first 
dawn  of  morning  should  awaken  me  prematurely.  Another 
constitutional  idiosyncrasy  of  mine  is  the  necessity  of  a  great 
deal  of  air.  Therefore  I  always  had  the  doors  between  my 
bed-room  and  dressing-room  left  open," 

"After  all,  that  is  like  my  own  need.  I  require  a  great 
deal  of  air  also,"  said  Claudia. 

"Well !  now  to  my  story.  On  a  certain  spring  morning,  in 
the  beginning  of  the  second  year  of  my  widowhood,  I  was 
awakened  very  early  by  a  glare  of  light  in  my  bed-room.  On 
looking  up,  I  saw  through  the  open  doors  connecting  my  bed- 
room with  my  dressing-room  that  the  three  front  windows  of 
the  dressing-room,  overlooking  the  street,  were  open,  and  all 
the  morning  sunlight  was  pouring  in.  My  first  emotion  was 
anger  with  my  maid  for  opening  them  so  soon  to  wake  me  up. 
I  got  out  of  bed,  slipped  on  a  dressing-gown  and  went  into 
the  front  room.  Now,  judge  what  my  feelings  must  have  been 
to  see  there  Captain  Dugald  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  standing  be- 
fore one  of  the  front  windows  deliberately  brushing  his  hair, 
in  the  full  view  of  all  the  passengers  of  the  street  below !" 

"Great  heavens !"  exclaimed  Claudia. 

"I  could  not  speak,"  continued  the  countess ;  "I  could  only 
Btand  and  gaze  at  the  man  in  speechless  amazement.  But 
he  was  not  dismayed !  he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  laughed 
himself  out  of  breath — for  he  was  a  great  laugher.  When 
he  found  his  tongue,  he  said  to  me: 

"  'You  had  as  well  give  in  now,  my  lady !  The  fortress  is 
capped!  the  mine  is  exploded!  The  city  is  taken!  Hun- 
dreds of  people  passing  up  and  down  the  street  before  this 
house  have  looked  up  at  these  windows  and  seen  me  standing 
here  half  dressed  I  And  they  have  formed  their  opinions,  and 
mado  their  comineuts,  and  circulated  their  news  accordingly ; 


Lady  Hurstmonceux's  Revelation,      aSs 

Ri}d  so,  if  our  marriage  be  not  published  this  morning,  you 
may  judge  what  the  consequences  will  be — to  yourself !' "     ^ 

"What  a  villain !"  said  Judge  Merlin. 

"Astonishment  had  struck  me  dumb  in  the  first  instance; 
and  anger  kept  me  silent,"  continued  the  countess.  "I  know 
what  I  ought  to  have  done!  I  know  that  I  ought  to  have 
summoned  the  police,  and  given  the  man  in  charge  on  the 
epot,  as  a  common  burglar  and  housebreaker;  only,  you  see, 
I  did  not  think  of  it  at  the  time.  I  only  rang  the  bell,  and 
then,  without  waiting  the  arrival  of  my  servant,  I  opened 
the  door  and  pointed  silently  to  it.  He  made  no  motion  to 
go;  on  the  contrary,  he  began  to  defend  his  act,  to  plead  his 
cause,  and  to  urge  his  suit.  He  said  that  'all  stratagems 
were  fair  in  love  and  war;'  that  it  was  now  absolutely  neces- 
sary for  my  fair  fame  that  we  should  be  immediately  mar- 
ried ;  that  the  bride  he  had  won  by  fraud  should  be  worn  with 
faithfulness.  But,  with  an  unmoved  countenance,  I  only 
pointed  to  the  door,  until  my  servant  came  in  answer  to  the 
bell.  Then  I  told  the  servant  to  show  Captain  Dugald  out, 
and  if  he  refused  to  go,  to  summon  assistance  and  eject  him. 
Seeing  that  I  was  determined  to  be  rid  of  him,  he  put  on  his 
coat,  and,  laughing  at  my  discomfiture,  took  his  departure. 
Then  I  instituted  inquiries ;  but  failed  to  gain  any  informa- 
tion respecting  his  means  of  entrance  and  concealment  in  my 
apartments.  I  strongly  suspected  my  kinsman  Isaacs  of  being 
the  accomplice  of  Captain  Dugald;  but  I  had  no  means  of 
ascertaining  the  fact  by  questioning  him,  as  he  went  away 
that  same  morning  and  never  returned.  The  adventure,  of 
course,  did  me  some  harm  at  the  time ;  but  the  unprincipled 
hero  of  it  reaped  no  advantage.  He  doubtless  thought  me 
another  Lucretia,  who  would  sacrifice  the  reality  to  preserve 
the  semblance  of  honor.  He  hoped  to  find  in  me  one  who,  in. 
the  base  fear  of  being  falsely  condemned,  would  marry  a  man 
I  despised,  and  thus  really  deserve  condemnation.  He  was 
disappointed !  From  that  hour  I  forbade  him  the  house,  and 
I  have  never  seen  him  since.  A  year  later  I  married  an- 
other," added  the  countess,  in  a  voice  so  subdued  that,  at  the 
close  of  the  sentence,  it  gradually  sank  into  silence. 

Ishmael's  beautiful  eyes  had  been  bent  on  her  all  the  time; 
now  his  whole  face  lighted  up  with  a  smile  as  of  a  newly 
inspired,  benevolent  hope. 

"You  were  right — entirely  right.  Lady  Hurstmonceux,  in 
thus  vindicating  the  dignity  of  womanhood.  And  I  do  not 
believe  that  any  lasting  blame  growing  out  of  a  misunder- 
standing of  the  circumstances  could  have  attached  to  you,'* 
said  Ishmael,  earnestly. 

"No,  indeed,  there  was  not !  And  soon  after  that  event  I 
left  Edinboro'  for  the  south  coast  of  England,  and  at  Brigh- 
toa — **  here  the  voice  of  the-  countess  sank  almost  to  an  ia- 


286      Lady  Hurstmonceux's  Revelation. 

audible  whisper — "at  Brighton  I  met  and  married  another. 
And  now  let  U3  talk  of  something  else,  Ishmael,"  she  con- 
cluded, turning  an  affectionate  glance  upon  the  sympathetic 
face  of  the  young  man. 

For  there  was  a  wonderful  depth  of  sympathy  between  this 
queenly  woman  of  forty-five  and  tliis  princely  young  man  of 
twenty-twc.  On  her  side  there  was  the  royal,  benignant, 
tender  friendship  v/ith  which  siich  sovereign  ladies  regard 
such  young  men;  while  on  his  side  there  was  the  loyal  devo- 
tion with  which  such  young  men  worship  such  divinities. 
Such  a  friendship  is  a  blessing  when  it  is  understood ;  a  curse 
when  it  is  misapprehended. 

Ishmael  turned  the  conversation  to  the  subject  of  the  aot 
of  restitution,  proposed  by  the  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux. 

Ishmael  now  possessed  the  only  clear,  cool  and  undisturbed 
intelligence  of  the  whole  party,  who  were  all  more  or  less 
shaken  by  the  terrible  events  of  the  last  few  days.  He  had 
to  think  for  them  all. 

He  announced  his  intention  of  departing  for  London  on 
the  ensuing  Friday  morning,  and  warned  the  judge  that  he 
should  require  his  final  instructions  for  acting  in  concert  with 
the  soiicitor»  of  the  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux. 

The  judge  promised  that  these  should  be  ready  in  writing 
to  place  in  his  hands  at  the  moment  of  his  departure. 

"And  while  I  am  in  London,  had  I  not  better  see  the  agents 
of  the  ocean  steamers^  and  ascertain  how  soon  we  can  obtain 
a  passage  home  for  our  whole  party?  The  termination  of 
these  trials,  and  the  restitution  of  Lady  Vincent's  estate 
really  leave  us  nothing  to  do  here;  and  we  know  that  Lady 
Vincent  is  pining  for  the  repose  of  her  native  home," 
said  Ishmael. 

"Certainly,  certainly,  Ishmael !  The  execution  of  Frisbie, 
the  death  of  the  viscoimt,  the  conviction  of  Mrs.  Dugald,  and 
the  act  of  the  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux,  really,  as  you  say, 
leave  us  free  to  go  home.  I  myself,  as  well  as  Claudia,  pine 
for  my  home.  And  you,  Ishmael,  though  you  have  not  said 
80,  have  sacrificed  already  too  much  of  your  professional  in- 
terests to  our  necessities.  Tou  should  be  at  your  office.  AJVTiat 
on  earth  is  becoming  of  your  clients  all  this  time?" 

"I  dare  say  they  are  taken  good  care  of,  sir.  Bo  not  thirJc 
of  me.  Believe  me,  I  have  no  interests  dearer  to  my  heart 
than  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  my  friends.  Then  I  shall 
engage  a  passage  for  us  all,  in  tha  first  available  steamer  ?" 

"I — I  thinlc  so,  Ishmael.  There  is  nothing  to  keep  us  here 
longer  that  I  know  of ;  we  have  nothing  to  do,"  said  the  judge, 
liesitatinglj\ 

"I  have  something  yet  to  do,  before  I  return  home,"  smiled 
ishmael,  with  a  quick  and  guickly  withdrawn  glance  in  the 


Lady  Hurstmonceux^s  Revelation.      287 

direction  of  the  countess;  "but  I  shall  do  it  before  we  go, 
or  if  not  I  can  remain  behind  for  another  steamer." 

"No,  no,  Ishmael!  You  have  stayed  long  with  us;  we  will 
wait  for  you.    What  do  you  say,  Claudia?" 

Claudia  said  nothing. 

Ishmael  replied: 

"I  shall  endeavor  to  accomplish  all  that  I  propose  in  time 
to  accompany  you,  Judge  Merlin.  But  if  I  should  not  be 
able  to  do  so,  still  I  think  that  you  had  better  all  go  by  the 
first  steamer  in  which  you  can  get  a  passage.  You  should,  if 
possible,  cross  the  ocean  before  March  sets  in,  if  you  would 
have  anything  like  a  comfortable  voyage." 

"Heavens,  yes!  you  are  right,  Ishmael!  Our  late  voyage 
Bhould  teach  me  a  lesson!  I  must  not  expose  Claudia  to 
the  chances  of  such  shipwreck  as  we  suffered,"  said  the  judge, 
gravely. 

Ishmael  tiu-ned  and  looked  at  Claudia.  She  had  not  once 
spoken  since  her  name  had  been  introduced  into  the  conversa- 
tion. She  had  sat  there  with  her  elbow  on  the  table  and  her 
head  bowed  upon  her  hand,  in  mournful  silence.  She  was 
looking  perfectly  beautiful  in  her  widow's  dress  and  cap — per- 
fectly beautiful  with  that  last  divine,  perfecting  touch  that 
sorrow  gives  to  beauty.  Surely  Ishmael  thought  so  as  he 
looked  at  her.  She  lifted  her  drooping  lide.  Their  eyes  met; 
hers  were  suffused  mth  tears;  his  were  full  of  earnest  sym- 
pathy. 

"You  shall  not  be  exposed  to  shipwreck.  Lady  Vincent,"  he    ) 
said,  in  a  voice  rich  with  tenderness. 

Slowly  and  mournfully  she  shook  her  head. 

"There  are  other  wrecks,"  she  said: 

"'And  I  beneath  a  rougher  sea, 
O'erwhelmed  in  deeper  gulfs  may  be.' "  ^ 

The  last  words  were  breathed  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice, 
and  her  head  sank  low  upon  her  hand. 

With  a  profound  sigh,  that  seemed  to  come  from  the  very 
depths  of  his  soul,  Ishmael  turned  away.  Passing  near  the 
Countess  of  Hurstmonceux,  he  bent  and  murmured: 

"Lady  Vincent  seems  very  weary." 

The  countess  took  the  hint  and  rang  for  the  bed-room  can- 
dles. 

And  when  they  were  brought,  the  party  bade  each  other 
good-night,  separated  and  retired. 

Barly  the  next  morning  they  set  out  for  EdiaboKo',  where 
th^  arrived  alDOXit  midday. 

The  Countess  of  Hurstmonceuys  serrants,  wh©  had  re» 
ieeived  telegraphic  orders  from  her  ladyship^  were  waiting  at 
the  station  with  carriages. 


i88      Lady  Hurstmonceux's  Revelatioiu 

The  whole  party  entered  these  and  drove  to  Cameron  Cour^ 
^here  they  arrived  in  time  for  an  early  dinner. 

After  this,  Ishmael  and  Judge  Merlin  were  closeted  in  the 
library,  and  engaged  upon  the  preliminary  measures  for  a 
final  arrangement  with  the  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux's  solicitors. 

The  judge,  in  his  good  opinion  of  the  earl,  would  have 
trusted  to  a  simple,  informal  rendition  of  his  daughter's 
fortune. 

But  Ishmael,  the  ever-watchful  guardian  of  her  Interests, 
warned  her  father  that  every  legal  form  must  be  scrupu- 
lously observed  in  the  restoration  of  the  property,  lest  in 
the  event  of  the  death  of  the  Earl  of  Hnrsf.mnnceux  his 
brother  and  successor,  the  disreputable  Captain  Dugald, 
should  attempt  to  disturb  her  in  its  possession. 

The  judge  acquiesced.  And  this  business  occupied  the 
friends  the  whole  of  that  afternoon. 

In  the  evening  they  joined  the  ladies  at  their  tea-table.  In 
Ihe  little  drawing-room. 

After  tea,  when  the  service  was  removed,  they  gathered 
around  the  table  in  social  converse. 

A  servant  brought  in  a  small  parcel  that  looked  like  a 
case  of  jewelry  done  up  in  paper,  and  laid  it  before  the  coun- 

X6SS* 

She  smiled,  with  a  deprecating  look,  as  she  took  it  up  and 
opened  it  and  passed  it  around  to  her  friends  for  inspection. 

It  was  a  miniature  of  the  countess  herself,  painted  on 
ivory.  It  was  a  faithful  likeness,  apparently  very  recently 
taken;  for  on  looking  at  it  you  seemed  to  see  the  beautiful 
countess  herself  on  a  diminished  scale,  or  through  an  inverted 
telescope. 

"It  has  been  making  a  visit,"  smiled  the  countess.  "A 
poor  young  artist  in  Edinboro'  is  getting  up  a  'Book  of 
Beauty'  on  his  own  account.  He  came  here  in  person  to  beg 
the  loan  of  one  of  my  portraits  to  engrave  from.  I  gave  him 
this,  because  it  was  the  last  I  had  taken.  I  gave  it  to  him 
because  a  refusal  from  me  would  have  wounded  his  feelings 
and  discouraged  his  enterprise.  Otherwise,  I  assure  you,  I 
should  not  have  let  him  have  it  for  any  such  purpose  as  he 
designed.  For  the  idea  of  putting  my  portrait  in  a  'Book 
of  Beauty*  is  a  rich  absurdity." 

"Pardon  me,  I  do  not  see  the  absurdity  at  all!"  said  Ish- 
mael, earnestly,  as  in  his  turn  he  received  the  miniature,  and 
gazed  with  admiration  on  its  beautiful  features. 

"Young  gentleman,  I  am  forty-five!"  said  the  countess. 

Ishmael  gave  a  genuine  start  of  surprise.  He  knew  of 
course  that  she  must  have  been  of  that  age,  but  he  had  for- 
gotten the  flight  of  time  and  the  announcement  startled  him. 
He  soon  recovered  himself,  however,  and  answered  with  his 
honest  siisile! 


Islimael's  Errand.  289 

"Well,  my  lady,  if  you  are  stiil  beautiful  at  forty-five,  you 
cannot  help  it,  and  you  cannot  prevent  artistic  eyes  from 
cieeing  it.  I,  aa  one  of  your  friends,  am  glad  and  grateful 
for  it!  And  I  hope  that  you  will  remain  as  beautiful  in 
form  as  in  spirit  even  to  the  age  of  seventy-five,  or  as  long 
after  that  as  you  may  live  in  this  world.'' 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Worth!  I  really  do  value  praise  from 
you,  because  I  knovs^  that  it  is  sincere  on  your  part  if  not 
merited  on  mine,"  said  Lady  Hurstmonceux. 

Ishmael  bowed  low  and  in  silence.  Then  he  resumed  his 
contemplation  of  the  picture.  And  presently  he  looked  up 
and  said: 

"Lady  Hurstmonceux,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  favor. 
Will  you  lend  me  this  picture  for  a  week  ?" 

The  countess  was  a  little  surprised  at  the  request.  She 
looked  up  at  Ishmael  before  answering  it. 

Their  eyes  met.  Some  mutual  intelligence  passed  in  thoea 
meeting  glances.    And  she  t-cn  answered: 

"Yes,  Mr.  Worth!  I  will  intrust  it  to  you  as  long  as 
you  would  like  to  keep  it;  without  reserve  and  without  eveu 
asking  you  what  you  wish  to  do  with  it." 

Again  Ishmael  bowed,  and  then  he  closed  the  case  of  the 
miniature  and  deposited  it  in  his  breast  pocket. 

"I  hope  that  youth  is  not  falling  in  love  with  his  grand- 
mother I  I  have  heard  of  such  things  in  my  life,"  thought  the 
judge  crossly  within  himself,  for  the  judge  was  growing  jeal- 
ous for  Claudia.  He  had  apparently  forgotten  the  existence 
©f  Bee. 

As  Ishmael  was  to  leave  Cameron  Court  at  a  very  early 
hour  of  the  morning,  before  any  of  the  family  would  be  likely 
to  be  up  to  see  him  off,  he  took  leave  of  his  friends  upon  this 
evening,  and  retired  early  to  his  room  to  complete  his  prepar- 
ations for  the  journey. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
ishmael's    errand. 

Ishmael  left  Edinboro'  by  the  earliest  express  train  for 
London,  where  he  arrived  at  nightfall. 

He  took  a  cab  and  drove  immediately  to  Morley's  Hotel  iu 
the  Strand,  where  Herman  Brudenell  was  stopping. 

Carpet-bag  in  hand,  Ishmael  was  shown  into  that  gentle- 
man's sitting-room. 

Mr.  Brudenell  sat  writing  at  a  table,  but  on  hearing  Mr. 
Worth  announced  and  seeing  him  enter,  he  started  up,  threig 
down  his  pen.  and  rushed  to  w<^lcomip  tfc*  traveler-. 


290  Islimael*s  Errand. 

'*My  dear,  dear  boy,  a  thousand  welcomes  1"  lie  exclaimed, 
heartily  shaking  Ishrnael's  hands. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  come  and  see  you  again,  sir.  I  hope 
that  you  are  quite  well?"  said  Ishmael,  cordially  responding 
to  this  warm  welcome. 

"As  well  as  a  solitary  man  can  be,  my  dear  boy !  How  did 
you  leave  our  friends  ?    In  good  health,  I  trust." 

"Yes;  in  tolerably  good  health,  considering  the  circum- 
stances. They  are  of  course  somewhat  shaken  by  the  terri- 
ble events  of  the  last  few  days." 

"I  should  think  so.  Heaven !  what  an  ordeal  to  have  passed 
through!    Poor  Claudia!    How  has  she  borne  it  all?" 

"With  the  most  admirable  firmness.  Claudia — Lady  Vin- 
cent, I  should  say — has  come  out  of  her  fiery  trial  like  refined 
gold,"  said  Ishmael,  warmly. 

"A  fiery  trial  indeed!  Ishmael,  I  have  read  the  full  ac- 
count of  the  Banff  tragedy,  as  they  call  it,  in  all  the  morning 
papers;  no  two  of  them  agreeing  in  all  particulars.  The  ac- 
count of  the  Times  I  hold  to  be  the  most  reliable;  it  is  at 
least  the  fullest — it  occupies  nearly  two  pages  of  that  great 
paper." 

"You  are  right ;  the  account  in  the  Times  is  the  true  one." 

"But,  bless  my  life,  I  am  keeping  you  standing  here,  carpet- 
bag in  hand,  all  this  time !    Have  you  engaged  your  room  ?" 

"'No ;  they  say  the  house  is  full." 

"Not  quite !  Mine  is  a  double-bedded  chamber.  You  shall 
share  it  with  me,  if  you  like.    What  do  you  say  ?" 

"Thank  you,  I  should  like  it  very  much." 

"Come  in,  then,  and  have  a  wash  and  a  change  of  clothes ; 
after  which  we  will  have  supper.  'What  would  you  like?" 

"Anything  at  all.  I  know  they  cannot  send  up  a  bad  one 
here." 

Mr.  Brudenell  touched  the  bell.  The  waiter  speedily  an- 
swered it. 

"Supper  directly,  James.  Four  dozen  oysters ;  a  roast  fowl ; 
baked  potatoes;  muffins;  a  bottle  of  sherry;  and,  and,  black 
tea! — that  is  your  milk-sop  beverage,  I  believe,  Ishmael," 
added  Mr,  Brudenell,  in  a  low  voice,  turning  to  his  guest. 

"That  is  my  milk-sop  beverage,"  replied  Ishmael,  good 
humoredly. 

The  waiter  went  away  on  his  errand.  And  Mr.  Brudenell 
conducted  Ishmael  into  the  adjoining  chamber,  where  the 
young  man  found  an  opportunity  of  renovating  his  toilet. 

When  they  returned  to  the  sitting-room  tlaey  found  the 
supper  served  and  the  waiter  in  attendance. 

But  it  was  not  until  the  traveler  had  done  full  justice  to 
this  meal;  and  the  service  was  removed;  and  the  waiter  was 


IslnnaePs  Errand.  29I 

gC5ie;  and  tlie  father  and  son  were  alone  together,  that  they 
entered  upon  confidential  topics. 

Mr.  Brudenell  questioned  Ishmael  minutely  upon  all  the 
details  of  the  "Banif  Tragedy."  And  Ishmael  satisfied  him 
in  every  particular.  One  circumstance  in  these  communica- 
tions was  noticeable — Mr.  Brudenell,  in  all  his  questionings, 
iiever  once  mentioned  the  name  of  the  Countess  of  Hurst- 
nionceux.  And  even  Ishmael  avoided  bringing  it  into  his  an- 
swers. 

When  Mr.  Brudenell  had  learned  all  that  he  wanted  to 
know,  Ishmael,  in  his  turn,  said: 

"I  hope,  sir,  that  the  business  which  brought  you  to  Eng- 
land has  been  satisfactorily  settled  ?" 

Mr.  Brudenell  sighed  heavily. 

"It  has  been  settled,  not  very  satisfactorily,  but  after  a 
fashion,  Ishmael.  I  never  told  you  exactly  what  that  busi- 
ness was.    I  intended  to  do  so ;  and  I  will  do  it  now." 

Mr.  Brudenell  paused  as  if  he  were  embarrassed  and  doubt- 
ful in  what  terms  to  tell  so  unpleasant  a  story.  Ishmael 
settled  himself  to  attend. 

"It  was  connected  with  my  mother  and  sisters,  Ishmael. 
They  have  been  living  abroad  here  for  many  years,  as  you 
have  perhaps  heard." 

"Yes." 

"And  they  have  been  living  far  above  their  means  and  far 
above  mine.  And  consequently  debts  and  difiiculties  and  em- 
barrassments have  come.  Again  and  again  I  have  made  large 
sacrifices  and  settled  all  claims  against  them.  I  am  sorry-  to 
say  it  of  my  m-other  and  sisters,  Ishmael;  but  if  the  truth 
must  be  told,  their  pride  and  extravagance  have  ruined  them 
and  me,  so  far  as  financial  ruin  goes.  If  that  had  been  all, 
it  might  have  been  borne.  But  there  was  worse  to  come. 
About  a  year  ago  my  sister  Eleanor — who  had  reached  an 
age  when  single  women  begin  to  despair  of  marriage — formed 
the  acquaintance  of  a  disreputable  scoundrel,  one  Captain 
Dugald,  a  younger  brother,  I  hear,  of  the  present  Earl  of 
Hurstmonceux " 

"Captain  Dugaldl  I  have  heard  of  him  I"  exclaimed  Ish- 
mael. 

"No  doubt;  most  people  have.  He  is  rather  a  notorious 
character.  Well,  my  infatuated  sister  took  a  fancy  to  the 
fellow ;  misled  him  into  the  belief  that  she  was  the  mistress  of 
a  large  fortune;  and  played  her  cards  so  skilfully  that — ^welll 
in  a  word,  the  handsome  scamp  ran  off  with  her,  or  rather  she 
ran  off  with  him ;  for  she  seems  all  through  to  have  taken  the 
initiative  in  her  own  ruin !" 

"But  I  do  not  understand  why  she  should  have  run  off  I 
She  was  of  ripe  ag©  and  her  own  mistress.    Who  was  there 
iQlunfremS"' 
1/ 


292  Ishmaers  Errand. 

"Her  mother  I  Lei'  mother ;  who  could  not  endure  the  sigiilj 
of  Captain  Dugnld,  and  who  had  forbidden  him  her  house.'* 

''Ah!" 

"Well,  they  were  married  at  Liverpool.  ITe  took  her  to  the 
United  States.  At  my  mother's  request  I  followed  them  there 
to  reclaim  my  sister,  for  report  said  that  the  captain  had  al- 
ready another  wife  when  he  married  Eleanor.  This  report, 
however,  I  have  ascertained  to  he  without  foundation.  1 
could  not  find  them  in  the  United  States,  and  soon  gave  up 
the  search.  Captain  Dugald  had  no  love  for  my  sister.  He 
appears  to  have  treated  her  brutally  from  the  first  hour  that 
he  got  her  into  his  power.  And  when  he  learned  that  she  had 
deceived  him,  deceived  him  in  every  way,  in  regard  to  her 
fortune,  in  regard  to  her  age,  in  regard  to  her  very  beauty, 
which  was  but  the  eifect  of  skilful  dress,  he  conceived  a  dis- 
gust for  her,  abused  her  shamefully,  and  finally  abandoned 
her  in  poverty,  in  sickness,  and  in  debt !" 

"Poor,  unhappy  lady!  what  else  could  she  have  expected? 
She  must  have  been  mad!"  said  Ishmael. 

"Mad !  madness  don't  begin  to  explain  it !  She  must  have 
been  possessed  of  a  devil.  When  thus  left,  she  sold  what  few 
miserable  trinkets  of  jewelry  his  cupidity  had  spared  her, 
and  took  a  steerage  passage  in  one  of  our  steamers  and  fol- 
lowed him  back  to  England ;  but  here  lost  sight  of  him,  for 
it  seems  that  he  is  somewhere  on  the  Continent.  She  came 
to  my  mother's  house  in  London  in  the  condition  of  a  beg- 
gar, knowing  that  she  was  a  pauper,  and  fearing  that  she 
was  no-t  a  wife.  In  this  state  of  affairs  my  mother  wrote, 
summoning  me  to  her  assistance.  I  came  over  as  you  know. 
I  have  ascertained  that  my  sister's  marriage  is  a  perfectly 
legal  one ;  but  I  have  not  si^cceedcd  in  finding  her  scoundrel 
of  a  husband  and  bringing  him  to  book.  He  is  still  on  the 
Continent  somewhere,  hiding  from  his  creditors,  it  is  said." 

"And  his  unhappy  wife?" 

"Is  on  her  voyage  to  America.  I  have  sent  them  all  Iwme, 
Ishmael.    They  must  live  quietly  at  Tanglewood.'* 

"But  now  that  the  Viscount  Vincent  is  dead,  and  Captain 
Dugald  becomes  the  heir  presumptive  to  the  earldom  of 
Ilurstmonceux,  his  prospects  are  so  much  improved  that  I 
should  think  he  would  return  to  England  without  fear  of  an- 
noyance from  his  creditors;  such  gentry  being  usually  very 
complaisant  to  the  heirs  of  rich  earldonis." 

"I  doubt  if  he  will  live  to  inherit  the  title  and  estate., 
Ishmael.  He  is  nearly  eaten  up  by  alcohol.  Eleanor,  I  know, 
v.'ill  not  live  long.  She  is  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption. 
Her  repose  at  Brudenell  Hall  may  alleviate  her  sufferings, 
but  cannot  save  her  life,"  said  Mr.  Brudenell,  sadly.  "I 
have  only  waited  until  your  businepa  here  should  be  con- 
cluded, Ishcaael,  in  order  to  return  thither  myself.   You  havir 


Isliinaers  Errand.  293 

nothing  more  to  do,  however,  but  to  act  for  Judge  Merlin 
in  this  matter  of  restitution,  and  then  you  will  be  ready  to 
go,  I  presume." 

"Yes;  I  have  something  else  to  do,  sir!  I  have  to  expose 
a  villain,  to  vindicate  a  lady,  and  to  reconcile  a  long-es- 
tranged pair,"  replied  Ishmael,  in  a  nervous  tone,  yet  with 
smiling  eyes. 

"Why,  what  have  you  been  doing  but  just  those  things? 
What  was  Lord  Vincent?  What  was  Claudia?  Wliat  was 
your  part  in  that  affair  ?  Nevei',  since  the  renowned  Knight 
of  Mancha,  the  great  Don  Quixote,  lived  and  died,  has  there 
been  so  devoted  a  squire  of  dames,  so  brave  a  champion  of 
the  wrong,  as  yourself,  Ishmael,"  said  Mr.  Brudenell. 

"You  may  laugh,  but  you  shall  not  laugh  me  out  of  my 
next  enterprise,  or  'adventure,'  as  the  illustrious  personage 
you  have  quoted  would  call  it.  And,  by  the  way,  do  you  know 
anything  of  a  fellow-passenger  of  ours  in  the  late  voyage,  the 
German  Jew,  Ezra  Isaacs  ?" 

"No;  why?"  ^ 

"I  need  him  in  the  prosecution  of  this  adventure." 

"I  have  not  seen  him  since  we  parted  at  Liverpool.  I  know 
iiothing  whatever  about  him." 

"Well,  then,_  after  I  have  been  at  the  chambers  of  Messrs. 
Hudson,  I  must  go  to  Scotland  Yard,  and  put  the  affair  in 
the  hands  of  the  detectives,  for  have  Isaacs  hunted  up  I 
must !" 

"Is  he  the  villain  you  are  about  to  expose  ?" 

"Ko;  but  he  has  been  the  tool  of  that  villain,  and  I  want 
hina  for  a  sort  of  State's  evidence  against  his  principal." 

"Ah!  I  wish  you  joy  of  your  adventure,  Ishmael.  It  re- 
minds one  forcibly  of  the  windmills,"  said  Mr.  Brudenell. 

Ishmael  laughed  good-humoredly. 

"I  think  it  will  do  so,  sir,  when  you  find  that  the  objects 
poll  have  beea  mistaking  for  giants  are  only  windmills,  after 
all,"  he  said. 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  my  dear  fellow." 

Ishmael  took  from  his  breast  pocket  the  miniature  of  the 
Countess  of  Hurstmoneeux,  and  opening  it  and  gazinj^  upon 
it,  he  said: 

"This  is  the  likeness  of  the  injured  lady,  whose  honor  I 
have  sworn  to  vindicate." 

"Is  it  Claudia's?"  inquired  Mr.  Erudenell,  stretching  his 
hand  for  it. 

"No,  it  is  not  Lady  Vincent's.  Pardon  me,  upon  second 
thoughts,  sir  I  I  wish  to  tell  you  this  lady's  story  before  I 
show  you  her  portrait,"  answered  Ishmael,  shutting  the  case 
and  returning  it  to  his  pocket. 

•  Mr.  Brudenell  sat  back  in  his  chair,  and  looked  pu/Jtled  and 
attentiveb 


294  IsHmael's  Errand. 

"This  lady  was  the  young  and  beautiful  widow  of  an  aged 
peer.  She  was  as  pure  and  noble  as  she  was  fair  and  lovely. 
She  was  sought  in  niavriaf40  by  many  attrr.otive  suitors;  bvit 
in  vain,  for  she  would  not  bestow  her  hand  where  she  could 
not  bestow  her  heart.  Among  the  most  persevering  of  these 
suitors  was  a  profligate  fortune-lninter,  who,  as  the  near  rela- 
tive of  her  late  husband,  had  the  entree  into  her  house " 

"Ah  1  I  think  I  have  heard  this  story  before !"'  said  Mr. 
Brudenell,  with  the  slightest  possible  sneer  on  his  handsome 
lip. 

"One  side  of  it,  sir,  the  false  side!  Hear  the  other,  and 
the  true  one!  The  beautiful  widow  repulsed  this  suitor  in 
disgust,  and  peremptorily^  forbade  him  the  house.  Deter- 
mined not  to  be  baftled,  he  resorted  to  a  strategem  that  should 
have  sent  him  to  the  hulks — that  did,  in  fact,  banish  him 
from  all  decent  society.     Are  yoii  listening,  sir?" 

"With  all  my  soul !"  said  Mr.  Brudenell,  whose  mocking 
sneer  had  disappeared  before  an  earnest  interest. 

"I3y  tempting  the  cupidity  of  a  poor  kinsman,  who  was  a 
member  of  the  young  widow's  family,  he  managed  to  get  him- 
self secretly  admitted  to  her  house  and  concealed  in  her 
dressing-room,  whose  front  windows  overlooked  the  street. 
In  the  morning  this  man  opened  one  of  those  windows,  and 
stood  before  it  half  dressed,  in  full  view  of  the  street,  brush- 
ing his  hair  for  the  entertainment  of  the  passers-by.  The 
glare  of  light  from  the  open  window,  shining  through  the 
open  door  into  the  adjoining  bed-chamber  of  the  sleeping 
beauty,  awakened  her.  At  sight  of  the  sacrilegious  in- 
truder, she  was  so  struck  with  consternation  that  she  could 
not  speak.  He  took  advantage  of  his  position  and  her  panic 
to  press  his  repugnant  suit.  He  pleaded  that  his  ardent  pas- 
sion and  her  icy  coldness  had  driven  him  to  desperation  and 
to  extremity.  He  argued  that  all  stratagems  were  fair  in 
love.  He  begged  lier  to  forgive  him,  and  to  marry  him,  and 
warned  her  that  her  reputation  was  irretrievably  compro- 
mised if  slie  did  not  do  so." 

Ishmael  paused  and  looked  to  see  what  effect  this  story  was 
having  upon   Mr.   Brudenell. 

Herman  Brudenell  was  listening  with  breathless  interest. 

Ishmael  continued,  speaking  earnestly,  for  his  heart  was  in 
his  theme: 

"But  the  beautiful  and  spirited  young  widow  was  not  one 
to  be  terrified  into  a  measure  that  her  soul  abhorred!  Iler 
first  act,  on  recovering  the  possession  of  her  senses,  was  to 
ring  the  bell  and  order  the  ejectment  of  the  intruder.  And 
despite  his  attempts  at  explanation,  expostulation  and_  re- 
monstrance, this  order  was  promptly  obeyed.  And  the  lady 
Qever  saw  lum  afterward.  Soon  after  this  she  left  Edinboro' 
cor  the  south  of  England.    At  Brighton  she  met  with  a  geu- 


Islimaers  Errand.  295 

tleman  wlio  afterward  became  her  husband.  But  ah!  this 
gentleman,  some  time  subsequent  to  their  marriage,  received 
a  one-sided  account  of  that  affair  in  Ediuboro'.  He  was  then 
young,  sensitive  and  jealous!  He  believed  all  that  was  told 
him;  he  asked  no  ex|jlanation  of  his  young  wife;  he  silently 
abandoned  her!  And  she — faithful  to  the  one  love  of  her 
life — has  lived  through  all  her  budding  youth  and  blooming 
womanhood  in  loneliness  and  seclusion,  passing  her  days  in 
acts  of  charity  and  devotion.  Circumstances  have  lately 
placed  in  my  power  the  means  of  vindicating  this  lady's 
honor,  even  to  the  satisfaction  of  her  unbelieving  husband!" 

Ishmael  paused  and  looked  earnestly  into  the  troubled  face 
of  Herman  Brudenell. 

"Ishmael !"  he  exclaimed,  "of  course,  I  have  known  all 
along  that  you  have  been  speaking  of  my  wife.  Lady  Jlurst- 
monceuxo  If  you  have  not  been  deceived;  if  the  triith  is 
just  what  it  has  been  represented  to  you  to  be;  if  she  was 
indeed  innocent  of  all  complicity  .in  that  nocturnal  visit; 
then,  Ishmael,  I  have  done  her  a  great,  an  unpasdonable,  an 
irreparable  wrong  I" 

"You  have  done  that  lovely  lady  great  wrong,  indeed,  sir ; 
not  an  tmpardonable,  not  an  irreparable  one.  She  will  be  as 
ready  to  pardon  as  you  to  offer  reparation.  And  in  her  lovely 
humility  she  will  never  know  that  there  has  been  anything 
to  pardon.  Angels  are  not  implacable,  sir.  If  you  doubt  my 
judgment  in  this  matter,  look  on  her  portrait  now."  said 
Ishmael,  taking  her  miniature  once  more  from  his  coat 
pocket,  opening  it  and  laying  it  before  Herman  Brudenell. 

Mr,  Brudenell  slowly  raised  it,  and  wistfully  gazed  upon  it. 

"Is  it  a  faithful  portrait,  Ishmael  ?"  he  asked. 

•*So  faithful  tliat  it  is  like  herself  seen  through  a  dimin- 
ishing glass." 

"She  is  very,  very  beautiful,  more  beautiful  even  than  she 
was  in  her  early  yovith,"  said  Mr.  Brudenell,  thoughtfully 
gazing  upon  the  miniature. 

"Yes,  I  can  imagine  that  she  is  more  beautiful  now  than 
she  was  in  her  early  youth; — more  beautiful  with  the  heav- 
enly beauty  of  the  spirit  added  to  the  eartldy  beauty  of  the 
flesh.  Look  at  that  picture,  dear  sir:  fancy  those  charming 
features,  living,  smiling,  speaking,  ai\d  you  will  be_  better 
able  to  judge  hov:  beautiful  is  your  wife !  Oh,  sir,  I  think 
that  in  the  times  past  you  never  loved  that  sweet  lady  as  she 
deserved  to  be  loved !  but  if  you  wore  to  meet  her  now,  you 
would  love  her  as  you  never  loved  her  before !" 

"If  I  were  to  meet  her !  Why,  supposing  that  I  have 
wronged  her,  as  much  as  you  say,  how  could  I  ever  venture 
to  present  myself  before  her?" 

'How  could  you  ever  venture?  Oh,  sir,  because  she  loves 
you!    There  are  women,  sir,  who  love  but  once  in  all  their 


29^' 


Islimael's  Errand. 


lived,  and  then  love  forever.  The  Countess  of  Ilurstmonceux 
is  one  of  these.  Sir,  since  I  have  lived  in  daily  companion- 
ship with  her,  I  have  been  led  to  study  her  with  affectionate 
interest.  I  have  read  her  life  as  a  wondrous  poem.  Ilcr  soul 
has  been  filled  with  one  love.  Her  heart  is  the  shrine  of  one 
idol.  ^  And  oh,  sir,  believe  mc,  the  future  holds  no  hope  of 
happiness  so  sweet  to  that  lovely  lady  as  a  reunion  with  the 
husband  of  her  youth." 

"Ah,  Ishmael,  if  I  could  believe  this,  my  own  youth  would 
be  restored!  I  should  have  a  motive  to  live.  You  said,  just 
now,  that  in  the  old  sad  times  I  had  not  loved  this  Jody  as 
■ihe  deserved  to  be  loved.  No — I  married  her  hastily,  impul- 
sively— flattered  by  her  evident  preference  for  me;  and  just 
as  I  was  beginning-  to  know  all  her  worth  and  beauty,  lo!  this 
fact  of  the  nocturnal  sojourn  of  the  profligate  Captain  Du- 
galdcame  to  my  knowledge — came  to  my  knowledge  with  a 
convincing  power,  beyond  all  possibility  of  questioning.  Oh, 
jou  see,  I  discovered  the  bare  fact,  without  the  explanation  of 
it !  I  believed  myself  the  dupe  of  a  clever  adventuress,  and 
my  love  was  nipped  in  the  bud.  If  I  could  believe  otherwise 
now — if  I  could  believe  that  she  was  innocent  in  that  affair, 
and  that  she  has  loved  me  all  these  years,  and  been  true  to 
that  love,  and  is  ready  and  willing  to  forgive  and  forget  the 
long,  sorrowful  past — Ishmael,  instead  of  being  the  most  des- 
olate, I  should.be  the  most  contented  man  alive,  I  should 
feel  like  a  shipwrecked  sailor,  long  tossed  about  on  the 
stormy  sea,  arriving  at  home  at  last!"  said  Mr.  Brudenell, 
gazing  almost  longingly  upon  the  picture  he  held  in  his  hand. 
_  Ishmael  was  too  wise  to  interrupt  that  contemplation  by  a 
single  word  at  this  moment. 

"The  thought  that  such  a  woman  as  this,  Ishmael — so  rich- 
ly endowed  in  beauty  of  form  and  mind  and  heart — should  be 
my  loving  companion  for  life,  seems  to  me  too  great  a  hope 
for  mortal  man  to  indulge." 

Ishmael  did  not  speak. 

"But  here  is  the  dilemma,  my  dear  boyl  either  she  did 
deceive  me,  or  she  di  J  not.  If  she  did  deceive  me,  lovely  as 
she  is,  I  wish  never  t>  see  her  again.  If  she  did  not  deceive 
me,  then  have  1  wronged  her  so  long  and  so  bitterly  that 
slie  must  wish  never  to  see  me  again!"  sighed  Mr.  Brude- 
nell,  as  lie  mournfullj'  closed  the  case  of  the  miniature. 
.    Then  Ishmael  spoke: 

"Oh,  sir!  I  have  resolved  to  vindicate  the  honor  of  this 
lady,  and  I  will  do  it!  Soon  I  will  have  the  German  Jew, 
Ezra  Isaacs,  looked  up;  for  he  it  was  who,  tempted  by  the 
false  representations  of  Captain  llugald,  secretly  admitted 
him  to  her  house  and  concealed  him  in  her  dressing-room. 
A.nd  he  shall  be  brought  to  confess  it.  Then  you  will  see, 
5U-,  the  perfect  innocence  of  the  countess.    And  for  the  rest. 


Ishmael's  Errand.  297 

if  you  wisli  to  prove  Iier  undiminished  love ;  her  perfect  will- 
ingness to  forget  the  past;  her  eagerness  for  a  reconciliation 
—go  to  her,  prove  it  all;  and,  oh,  sir,  be  happier  in  your 
sobei',  middle  age  than  ever  you  hoped  to  be  even  in  your 
sanguine  youth  !'^ 

The  young  man  spoke  so  fervently,  so  strongly,  so  earnest- 
ly, that  Mr.  Brudenell  seized  his  hand,  and  gazing  ailection- 
ately  in  his  eloquent  face,  said: 

"What  a  woman's  advocate  you  are,  Islunael!" 

"It  is  because  a  woman's  spirit  has  hovered  over  me,  from 
the  beginning  of  my  life,  I  think." 

"Your  angei  mother's  spirit,  Ishmael!  Ah,  brighter,  and 
sweeter  and  dearer  than  all  things  in  my  life,  is  the  mem- 
ory of  that  pastoral  poem  of  my  boyish  love!  It  is  the  one 
oasis  in  the  desert  of  my  life!" 

•'Forget  it,  dear  sir!  forget  it  all.  Think  of  your  boy- 
hood's love  as  an  angel  in  heaven,  and  love  her  only  so !  Do 
this  for  the  sake  of  that  sweet  lady  who  has  a  right  to 
your  exclusive  earthly  devotion." 

"Oh,  strange,  and  passing  strange,  that  Nora's  son  should 
advocate  the  cause  of  Nora's  rival !"  said  Herman  Brudenell, 
wonder  ingly. 

"Not  Nora's  rival,  sir!  An  angel  in  heaven,  beaming  in 
the  light  of  God's  smile,  can  never  have  a  rival — least  of  all 
a  rival  in  a  pilgrim  of  this  earth!  For  the  rest,  if  Nora's 
son  speaks,  it  is  because  Nora's  spirit  inspires  him!"  said 
Ishmael,  solemnly. 

"Your  life,  indeed,  seems  to  have  been  angel-guided,  and 
your  counsels  angel-inspired,  Ishmael.  And  they  shall  guide 
me !  Yes,  Nora's  son !  in  this  ci'isis  of  my  fate  your  hand 
shall  lead  me.  And  I  know  that  it  will  lead  me  into  a  haven 
of  rest." 

Soon  after  this  the  father  and  son  retired  for  the  night. 

Ishmael,  secure  in  his  own  happy  love  and  easy  in  his 
blameless  conscience,  soon  fell  asleep. 

Herman  Brudenell  lay  awake,  thinking  over  all  that  he  had 
heard;  blaming  himself  for  his  share  of  the  sorrowful  past, 
and  seeing  always  the  figure  of  the  beautiful  countess  in  her 
years  of  lonely  widowhood. 

It  is  something  for  a  solitary  and  homeless  man,  lik^  Her- 
man Brudenell,  to  discover  suddenly  that  he  has  for  years 
been  the  sole  object  of  a  good  and  beautiful  woman's  love. 
And  to  know  that  a  home  as  happy  and  a  wife  as  lovely  as 
his  j^outhful  imagination  ever  pictured,  was  now  waiting  to 
receive  him,  if  he  would  come  and  take  possession ! 

Early  the  next  morning  Ishmael  arose,  refreshed  from  a 
good  night's  rest;  but  Mr.  Brudenell  got  up,  weary  from  a 
sleepless  pillow.  ;      ~      ^ 

It  was  to  be  a  busy  day  with  Ishmael,  so,  after  u  hast^ 


398 


Ishmael's  Errand. 


breakfast,  he  took  a  temporary  leave  of  Mr.  Brudenell  and 
set  out.    . 

His  first  visit  was  to  the  cbambers  of  the  Messrs.  Hudson, 
Solicitors,  Burton  street,  Piccadilly. 

Where  all  parties  are  agreed,  business  must  be  promptly 
dispatched,  despite  of  even  the  law's  proverbial  delays.  The 
Earl  of  Hurstmonceux  and  Judge  Merlin  were  quite  agreed 
in  this  affair  of  restitution,  and  therefore  their  attorneys 
could  have  little  trouble. 

As  the  reader  knows,  upon  the  marriage  of  the  Viscount 
Vincent  and  Claudia  Merlin,  there  had  been  no  settlements; 
therefore  the  whole  of  the  bride's  fortune  became  the  absolute 
property  of  the  bridegroom. 

Subsequently,  Lord  Vincent  had  died  intestate;  therefore 
Claudia  as  his  widow  would  have  been  legally  entitled  to  but 
a  portion  of  that  very  fortune  she  herself  had  brouj^ht  to 
him  in  marriage,  all  the  rest  falling  to  the  viscount's  fam- 
ily, or  rather  to  its  representative,  the  Earl  of  Hurstmon- 
ceux. It  was  this  legal  injustice  that  the  earl  wished  to 
rectify,  by  making  over  to  Lady  Vincent  all  his  right,  title 
and  interest  in  the  estate  left  by  the  deceased  Lord  Vincent. 
This  business  he  had  intrusted  to  his  solicitors,  giving  them 
full  power  to  act  in  his  name. 

And  Ishmael,  with  the  concurrence  of  Judge  lilerlin,  made 
it  his  business  to  see  that  every  binding  legal  form  was  ob- 
served in  the  transfer,  so  that  Lady  Vincent  should  rest  un- 
disturbed in  her  possessions,  by  any  grasping  heir  that  might 
succeed  the  Earl  of  Hurstmonceux. 

When  this  arrangement  with  the  Messrs.  Hudson  was  sat- 
isfactorily completed,  Ishmael  entered  a  cab  and  drove  to 
Scotland  Yard.  He  succeeded  in  obtaining  an  immediate  in- 
terview with  Inspector  Meadows,  to  whose  hajids  he  com- 
mitted the  task  of  looking  up  the  German  Jew,  Ezra  Isaacs. 

iSText  he  drove  to  Broad  street,  to  the  agency  of  a  cele- 
brated line  of  ocean  steamers.  After  looking  over  their  pro- 
gramme of  steamers  advertised  to  sail,  and  reading  the  list 
of  passengers  booked  for  each,  he  found  that  he  could  engage 
berths  for  his  whole  party  in  a  fine  steamer  to  sail  that  day 
fortnight  from  Liverpool  for  New  York. 

lie  secured  the  berths  by  paying  the  passage  money  down 
and  taking  tickets  at  once. 

Finally,  he  re-entered  the  cab  and  drove  back  to  his  hotel. 

He  found  that  Mr.  Brudenell  had  walked  out.  That  did 
not  surprise  Ishmael.  Mr.  Brudenell  generally  did  walk  out. 
Like  all  homeless,  solitary,  and  unoccupied  men,  Mr.  Brude- 
nell had  formed  rambling  habits;  and  had  he  been  a  degree 
or  so  lower  in  the  social  scale  he  must  have  been  classed 
among  the  vagrants. 

Ishmael  sat  down  in  the  unoccupied  parlor  to  wi'ite  to 


IshmaePs  Errand.  299 

Judge  Merlin.  He  told  the  judge  of  the  satisfactory  com- 
pletion of  his  business  with  the  solicitors  of  the  Earl  of 
Ilurstmonceux ;  and  that  he  had  the  documents  affecting 
the  restitution  of  Lady  Vincent's  property  in  his  own  safe- 
keeping; that  he  did  not  like  to  trust  them  to  the  mail,  but 
would  bring  them  in  person  when  he  should  return  to  Edin- 
boro',  which  would  be  as  soon  as  a  little  affair  that  he  had  in 
hand  could  be  arranged;  and  he  hinted  that  Mr,  Brudenell 
would  probably  accompany  him  to  Scotland.  Finally  he  in-! 
formed  the  judge  that  he  had  engaged  passages  for  their 
party  in  the  Ocean  Mail  Steamer  "Columbus,"  to  sail  ©n 
Saturday,  the  fifteenth,  from  Liverpool  for  New  York.  He 
ended  with  sending  affectionate  respects  to  Lady  Vincent 
and  the  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux. 

Being  anxious  to  catch  the  afternoon  mail  at  the  last  mo- 
ment, Ishmael  did  not  intrust  the  delivery  of  this  letter  to 
the  waiters  of  the  hotel,  but  took  his  hat  and  hurried  out 
to  post  it  himself.  By  paying  the  extra  penny  exacted  for 
late  letters,  he  got  it  in  the  mail,  and  then  walked  back  to 
the  hotel. 

Jilr.  Brudenell  had  returned,  and  at  the  moment  of  Ish- 
mael's  entrance  he  was  in  solemn  consultation  with  the  waiter 
about  the  dinner. 

After  dinner  that  day  Ishmael  went  out  to  visit  the  Tower 
of  London,  to  him  the  most  interesting  of  all  the  ancient 
buildings  in  that  ancient  city. 

At  night  he  went  with  Mr.  Brudenell  to  the  old  classic 
Drury  Lane  Theatre  to  see  Kean  in  "Richard  III."  After 
that  intellectual  festival  they  returned  to  Morley's  to  supper 
and  to  bed. 

On  Sunday  morning  they  attended  divine  service  at  St. 
Paul's. 

The  next  morning  Ishmael,  with  Mr.  Brudenell,  paid  a 
visit  to  Westminster  Abbey,  where  the  tombs  of  the  ancient 
kings  and  warriors  engaged  their  attention  nearly  the  whole 
day.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  they  returned  to  Mor- 
ley's, where  the  first  thing  Ishmael  heard  was  that  a  person 
was  waiting  for  him  in  the  parlor. 

Mr.  Brudenell  went  directly  to  his  chamber  to  change  his 
dress.  But  Ishmael  repaired  to  the  parlor,  where  he  expected 
to  see  some  one  from  Scotland  Yard. 
He  found  the  German  Jew  sitting  there. 
"Why,  Isaacs?  Is  this  you,  already?  I  am  very  glad  to 
see  you!  Mr.  Meadows  sent  you,  I  suppose?"  said  Ishmael, 
advancing  and  shaking  hands  with  his  visitor. 

"Mishter  Meators?  Who  is  he?  No,  Mishter  Meators  tit 
not  zend  me  here;  no  one  tit;  I  gome  myzelf.  I  saw  your 
name  in  te  list  of  arrivals  at  dish  house,  bublished  in  tish 
piorningsh  babers.    Ant  I  said — dish  is  te  name  of  vou  drue 


300  IsHmaers  Errand. 

shentlemans ;  ant  I'll  gall  to  seo  liim ;  and  here  I  am,"  replied 
the  Jew,  cordially  returning  Ishmael's  shake  of  the  hand. 

"Thank  you,  Isaacs,  for  your  good  opinion  of  me.  Sit 
down.  I  have  been  very  anxious  to  see  you,  to  speak  to  you 
on  a  subject  that  I  must  broach  at  once,  lest  we  should  be  in- 
terrupted before  we  have  discussed  it,"  said  Ishmael,  who 
was  desirous  of  bringing  Isaacs  to  confession  before  the  en- 
trance of  Mr.  Brudenell. 

"Sbeak,  ten!"  said  the  Jew,  settling  himself  in  the  big 
arm-chair. 

"Isaacs,  you  had  a  beautiful  kinswoman  of  whom  you  used 
to  speak  to  me  on  our  voyage;  but  you  never  told  me  her 
name,"  said  Ishmael,  gravely,  seating  himself  near  the  Jew. 

"Titn't  I,  verily?  Veil,  her  name  vas  Berenice,  daughter 
of  Zillah;  Zillah  vas  mine  moder's  shishter,  and  vas  very  fair 
to  look  upon.  She  marriet  mit  a  rish  Lonton  Shew,  and  tiet 
leafing  von  fair  daughter  Berenice,  mine  kinswoman,  who 
marriet  mit  an  English  lort;  very  olt,  very  boor,  put  very 
much  in  love  mit  my  kinsvoman.  lie  marriet  her  pccause 
zhe  was  fair  to  look  upon  and  very  rish;  her  fader  made  her 
marry  him  pecause  he  was  a  lort;  he  zoon  tied  and  left  her 
a  witow,  ant  zhe  never  marriet  again ;  zhe  left  te  country  and 
zas  away  many  years  ant  I  have  nod  zeen  her  zince.  My  fair 
kinsvoman!  Zhe  hat  a  great  wrong  done  her!"  said  the  Jew, 
dropping  his  chin  upon  his  chest  and  falling  into  sad  and 
penitential  reverie. 

"Yes,  Isaacs,"  said  Ishmael,  rising  and  laying  his  hand  sol- 
emnly on  the  breast  of  the  Jew.  "Yes,  Isaacs,  she  had  a  great 
wrong  done  her,  a  greater  wrong  than  even  you  can  imagine ; 
a  wrong  so  great  in  its  devastating  effects  upon  her  life,  that 
you  cannot  even  estimate  its  enormity !  But,  Isaacs,  you  can 
do  something  to  right  this  wrong!" 

"I  I  Fader  Abraham  1  what  can  I  ?"  exclaimed  the  Jew,  im- 
pressed and  frightened  by  the  earnestness  of  Ishmael's  words 
and  manner. 

"You  can  make  a  full  disclosure  of  the  circumstances  un- 
der which  the  miscreant,  Dromlie  Dugald,  obtained  access  to 
Lady  Ilurstmonceux's  private  apartments." 

The  Jew  gazed  up  in  the  yoiuig  man's  face,  as  though  he 
was  unable  to  withdraw  his  eyes;  he  seemed  to  be  held  spell- 
bound by  the  powerful  magnetism  of  Ishmael's  spirit. 

"Isaacs,"  continued  the  yoimg  man,  "whatever  may  be  the 
nature  of  those  disclosure,  I  pi'omise  you  that  you  shall  be 
held  free  of  consequences — I  promise  you;  and  you  know  the 
value  of  my  promise." 

The  Jew  did  not  answer  and  did  not  remove  his  eye?  from 
the  earnest,  eloquent  face  of  Ishmael. 

"So  you  see,  Isaacs,  that  your  disclosures,  while  they  will 
(deliver  the  countess  from  the  suspicions  imder  which  her  hap- 


Islimael's  Errancl,  301 

piness  has  drooped  for  so  many  years,  can  do  you  no  injury. 
And  now,  Isaacs,  I  ask  you  as  man  speaking  to  man,  a  ques- 
tion that  I  adjure  you  to  answer,  as  you  shall  answer  at  that 
great  day  of  account,  when  quick  and  dead  sliall  stand  he- 
fore  the  har  of  God,  and  the  secret  of  all  hearts  shall  he  re- 
vealed— did  you  admit  Dromlie  Dugald  to  the  private  apart- 
ments of  the  Coiuitess  of  Hurstmonceux,  without  the  knowl- 
edge or  consent  of  her  ladyship  ?'' 

"Cot  forgive  me,  I  tit !"  exclaimed  the  Jew,  in  a  low,  terri- 
fied voice. 

"That  VN'ill  do,  Isaacs,"  said  Ishmael,  ringing  the  bell. 

A  waiter  came. 

"Is  there  an  unoccupied  sitting-room  that  I  can  have  th© 
use  of  for  a  short  time?"  inquired  Ishmael. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Show  me  to  it  immediately,  then." 

The  waiter  led  the  way,  and  Ishmael,  beckoning  the  Israel- 
ite to  accompany  him,  followed  to  a  comfortable  little  parlor, 
warmed  by  a  bright  little  fire,  such  as  they  kept  always  ready 
for  chance  guests. 

"Writing  materials,  -Tames,"  said  Ishmael. 

The  man  went  for  them;  and  while  he  was  gone  Ishmael 
said: 

"We  might  have  been  interrupted  in  the  other  room,  Isaacs; 
tliat  is  the  reason  why  I  have  brought  you  here." 

When  the  waiter  had  returned  with  the  writing  materials, 
and  arranged  tliem  on  the  table,  and  again  had  withdrawn 
from  the  room,  Ishmael  drew  a  chair  to  the  table,  seated  him- 
self, took  a  pen,  and  said: 

"Now,  Isaacs,  sit  down  near  me,  and  relate,  as  faithfully 
as  you  can,  all  the  circumstances  attending  the  concealment 
of  Dromlie  Dugald  in  Lady  Plurstmonceux's  apartments." 

The  Jew,  as  if  acting  tuader  the  spell  of  a  powerful  spirit, 
did  as  he  was  ordered.  He  drew  a  chair  to  the  table,  seated 
himself  opposite  Ishmael,  and — to  use  a  common  phrase — • 
"made  a  clean  breast  of  it." 

I  will  not  attempt  to  give  his  confession  in  detail.  I  will 
only  give  the  epitome  of  it.  He  acknowdedged  that  he  had 
been  bribed  by  Captain  Dugald  to  favor  his  (the  captain's) 
addresses  to  the  beautiful  young  widow.  But  he  solemnly  de- 
clared that  he  had  supposed  himself  to  be  acting  as  much 
for  the  lady's  good  as  for  his  oww  interest,  when  he  took 
the  captain's  money  and  admitted  him  freely  to  the  house  of 
his  kinswoman,  where  he  himself  was  staying,  a  temporary 
guest,  and  where  he  received  her  suitor  as  his  own  visitor. 
•  Further,  he  more  solemnly  declared  that  on  that  fatal  even- 
ing when  he  seci-etly  admitted  the  captain  to  the  house,  and 
guided  him  to  the  boudoir  of  the  countess,  he  had  not  the 
remotest  suspicion  of  the  nefarious  purpose  of  the  suitor. 


302  Islimaers  Errand. 

He  thougnt  ThiiAd  merely  wislied  for  an  opportunity  of 
pressing  his  suit.  He  had  no  idea  that  the  unscrupulous  vil- 
lain designed  to  conceal  himself  in  the  closet  of  the  dressing- 
room,  and  so  pass  the  night  in  Lady  Hurstmonceux's  private 
apartments,  and  show  himself  in  the  morning  in  dishabille 
at  her  open  window,  for  the  benefit  of  all  the  passengers 
through  the  street. 

He  affirmed  that  when  in  the  morning  he  heard  of  this 
infamous  abuse  of  confidence  on  the  part  of  his  patron,  he 
had  not  had  courage  to  meet  his  kinswoman  at  breakfast,  but 
had  decamped  from  the  house  in  great  haste,  and  had  never 
seen  the  countess  since  that  eventful  day. 

He  said  that  he  had  heard  how  much  she  had  suffered 
from  the  affair,  at  least  for  a  short  time;  and  that  after- 
ward he  had  heard  she  had  left  the  country;  that  he  had  since 
supposed  the  wliole  circumstance  had  been  forgotten,  and  he 
did  not  even  now  understand  how  his  disclosures  should  serve 
her,  since  no  one  now  remembered  the  escapade  of  Captain 
Dugald. 

As  Isaacs  spoke,  Ishmael  took  down  the  statement  in  writ- 
ing. 

When  it  was  finished  he  turned  to  the  Jew,  and  said : 

"You  are  mistaken  in  one  thing — nay,  indeed,  in  two 
things,  Isaacs!  The  first  is,  in  the  supposition  that  your  dis- 
closures cannot  now  serve  the  countess,  since  the  world  has 
long  ago  done  her  fvill  justice.  It  is  true  that  the  world 
has  done  her  full  justice,  for  there  is  no  lady  living  more 
higlily  esteemed  than  is  the  Countess  of  Hurstmonceux.  So, 
if  the  world  were  only  in  question,  Isaacs,  I  need  never  have 
troubled  you  to  speak.  But  there  is  an  individual  in  ques- 
tion; and  this  brings  me  to  your  second  mistake:  namely, 
in  the  supposition  that  the  coimtess  never  married  again.  She 
did  marry  again;  but  a  few  months  subsequent  to  her  mar- 
riage, her  husband  heard  the  story  of  Captain  Dugald's  ad- 
venture, as  it  was  then  circulated  and  believed;  and  he 
thought  himself  the  dupe  of  a  cunning  adventuress,  and  es- 
tranged himself  from  his  wife  from  that  day  imtil  this." 

"Fader  Abraham!"  exclaimed  the  Jew,  raising  both  his 
hands  in  consternation, 

"Providence  has  lately  put  me  in  possession  of  all  the  facta 
in  this  case,  and  has  enabled  me  to  pave  tlie  way  for  a  re- 
conciliation between  the  long-severed  pair — supposing  that 
you  will  have  the  moral  courage  to  do  your  kinswoman  jus- 
tice." 

'"Fader  Abr'aham,  I  vill  do  her  shustice!  I  vill  do  Ler  more 
as  shustice !  I  vill  tell  te  whole  truth !  I  vill  tell  more  as  te 
whole  truth,  and  shwear  to  it  I  I  vill  do  anyding  I  I  vould 
do  anyding  alt  te  time,  if  I  had  knowt  itl"  said  the  Jew,  ear* 
nestly. 


Ishmaers  Errand.  303 

"Thank  you,  Isaacs,  I  only  want  the  simple  truth;  more 
than  that  would  do  us  harm  instead  of  good.  This  is  the 
simple  truth,  I  hope,  that  I  have  taken  down  from  your^ips?" 

"Yesh,  tat  ish  te  zimple  truth !" 

"I  will  read  the  whole  statement  to  you,  Isaacs,  sand  then 
you  will  be  able  to  see  whether  I  have  taken  down  your  words 
correctly,"  said  Ishmael.  And  h^.  took  up  the  manuscript  and 
read  it  carefully  through,  pausiiig  frequently  to  give  the  Jew 
an.  opportunity  of  correcting  him,  if  necessary. 

"Dat  ish  all  right,"  said  Isaacs,  when  the  reading  was  fin- 
ished. 

"Xow  sign  it,  Isaacs." 

Tlie  Jew  affixed  his  signature. 

'•'^STow,  Isaacs,  that  is  all  I  want  of  you  for  the  present ;  but 
should  you  be  required  to  make  oath  to  the  truth  of  this,  I 
suppose  that  you  will  be  found  ready  to  do  so." 

"Fader  Abraham !  yes,  I  vill  do  anyding  at  all,  or  anyding 
else,  to  serve  mine  kinsvoman,"  said  the  Jew,  rising. 

"Thank  you,  Isaacs !  Now  tell  me  where  I  shall  find  you, 
in  case  you  shall  be  wanted  ?" 

"I  am  lotging  mit  mein  frient,  Samuel  Phineas,  Butter 
Lane,  Borough." 

"I  will  remember!  Thank  you,  Isaacs!  You  have  done 
your  kinswoman  and  her  friends  good  service.  She  will  be 
grateful  to  you,  I  have  no  doubt  she  will  send  for  you! 
Would  you  like  to  come  to  her  ?" 

"Mit  all  my  feet !    Vere  ish  she  ?" 

*''At  her  country-seat,  Cameron  Court,  near  Edinboro'." 

"I  Wt  know  id!" 

"Xo,  you  don't  know  it.  It  is  a  comparatively  recent  pur- 
chase of  her  ladyship,  I  believe,"  said  Ishmael,  rising  to  ac- 
company the  Jew  from  the  room. 

As  tb.ey  went  out  he  rang  the  bell,  to  warn  the  waiter  that 
they  had  evacuated  the  apartment. 

In  the  hall,  Isaacs  bade  him  good-afternoon.  And  Ishmael 
turned  into  the  sitting-room  occupied  in  common  by  himself 
and  llr.  Brudenell. 

Tie  found  the  table  laid  for  dinner  and  Mr.  Brudenell 
walldng  impatiently  up  and  down  the  floor. 

"Ah,  you  are  there!  I  was  afraid  you  would  be  late!  and 
the  fish  and  the  soup  would  be  spoiled,  but  here  you  are  in 
the  very  nick  of  time !"  he  said,  as  he  touched  the  bell.  "Din- 
ner immediately,"  he  continued,  addressing  himself  to  the 
waiter  who  answered  his  summons.  '•' 

But  it  was  not  until  after  dinner  was  over,  and  the  cloth 
removed,  and  Mr.  Brudenell  had  finished  his  bottle  of  claret 
and  smoked_  out  his  principe,  that  Ishmael  told  him  of  his 
interview  with  Isaacs^  and  laid  the  written  statement  of  the 
Jew  before  hinu 


304        The  Meeting  of  tlie  Severed  Pair. 

Mr.  Brudenell  read  it  carefully  through,  with  the  deepest 
interest.  When  he  had  finished  it,  he  slowly  folded  it  up  and 
placed  it  in  his  breast-pocket,  dropped  his  head  upon  his 
chest,  and  remained  in  deep  thought  and  perfect  silence. 

After  the  lapse  of  ?.  few  moments,  Ishmael  spoke : 

"If  you  think  it  ::eedful,  sir,  Isaacs  is  ready  to  go  before 
a  magistrate  and  make  oath  to  the  truth  of  that  statement." 

"It  is  not  needful;  Ishmael,  I  have  not  the  least  dnubt  of 
its  perfect  truth.  It  is  not  of  that  I  am  thinking;  but — 
of  my  wife !  How  will  she  receive  me  ?  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain, that  having  deeply  injured  her,  I  must  go  to  her  and 
acknowledge  the  wrong  and  ask  her  forgiveness.  But,  oh, 
Ishmael!  what  atonement  will  that  be  for  years  of  cruel 
injustice  and  abandonment!  Xone!  none!  No!  I  feel  that 
I  can  make  her  no  atonement/'  said  Mr.  Brudenell,  bilterly. 

"No,  sir;  you  can  make  her  no  atonement,  but — ^you  can 
make  her  happy!  And  that  is  all  she  will  need!"  said  Ish- 
mael, gravely  and  sweetly. 

"If  I  thought  I  could,  Ishmael,  I  would  hasten  to  her  at 
once!  In  any  case,  however,  I  must  go  to  her,  acknowledge 
the  wrong  I  have  done  her  and  ask  for  pardon.  Biit,  ah! 
how  will  she  receive  me?" 

"Only  go  and  see  for  yourself,  sir,  I  implore  you  I"  said 
Ishmael,  earnestly. 

"When  do  you  return  to  Scotland,  Ishmael?" 

"When  you  are  ready  to  accompany  m.e,  sir;  I  am  wait- 
ing only  for  you,"  answered  Ishmael,  smiling. 

"Then  we  will  go  by  the  early  express  train  to-morrow 
morning,"  said  Mr.  Brudenell. 

"Very  well,  sir;  I  shall  be  ready,"  smiled  Ishmael. 

Mr.  JBrudenell  rang  for  tea.  And  when  it  was  set  on  the 
table  he  ordered  the  waiter  to  call  him  at  five  o'clock  the 
next  morning,  to  have  his  bill  ready,  and  got  a  fly  to  the 
door  to  take  them  to  the  Great  Northern  Railroad  Station  in 
time  to  meet  the  six  o'clock  express  train  for  Edinboro'. 

After  tea  the  two  gentlemen  remained  conversing  some 
little  time  longer,  and  then  retired  to  their  bed-chamber, 
where,  being  without  the  help  and  hindrance  of  a  valet, 
they  packed  their  own  portmanteaus.  And  then  the^  went 
to  bed  early  in  order  to  secure  a  long  and  good  night's  rest, 
preparatory  to  their  proposed  journey  the  next  morning. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE   MEETING   OF  THE   SEVERED   PAIR. 

Ishmael  and\Mr.  Brudenell  arose  before  the  waiter  called 
them.  They  dressed  quickly,  and  rang  and  ordered  break- 
fast, and  had  time  to  eat  it  leisurely  before  the  hour  at 


The  Meeting  of  the  Severed  Pair.       305 

which  the  cab  was  ordered  to  take  them  to  the  railway  sta 
tion.     They  caught  the  six  o'clock  express  on  the  point  of 
starting,  and  had  just  settled  themselves  comfortably  in  a 
first-class  carriage  when  the  train  moved. 

There  is  a  diflferenee  in  the  time  kept  even  by  express 
trains.  This  one  seemed  to  be  the  fastest  among  the  fast, 
since  it  steamed  out  of  the  London  station  at  six  in  the 
morning  and  steamed  into 'the  Edinboro'  station  at  four  in 
the  afternoon. 

Ishmael  called  a  cab  for  himself  and  fellow-traveler.  And 
v.'hen  they  had  taken  their  seats  in  it,  he  gave  the  order : 

"To  MacGruder's  Hotel." 

And  the  cab  started. 

"I  think,  sir,"  said  the  jonnger  man  to  the  elder,  "as  we 
are  in  such  good  time,  we  had  better  go  to  my  rooms  at  Mac- 
Gruder's and  renovate  our  toilets  before  driving  out  to 
Cameron  Court  and  presenting  ourselves  to  Lady  Hurstmon- 
ceux." 

"Yes,  yes,  certainly,  Ishmael;  for  really  I  think  after  that 
dusty,  smoky,  cindery  day's  journey  we  should  be  all  the 
better  for  soap  and  water  and  clean  clothes.  I  don't  know 
how  I  look,  my  dear  fellow,  but,  not  to  flatter  you,  you  pre- 
sent the  appearance  of  a  very  interesting  master  chimney- 
sweep !"  replied  Mr.  Brudenell. 

Ishmael  laughed. 

Ah,  yes,  Herman  Brudenell  jested  on  the  same  principle 
that  people  are  said  to  jest  en  their  way  to  execution !  Now, 
when  he  was  so  near  Cameron  Court  and  the  Countess  of 
Hurstmonceux,  how  ill  at  ef,se  he  had  become !  how  he  dread- 
ed yet  desired  the  interview  that  was  to  decide  his  fate. 

The  distance  between  the  railway  station  and  MacGruder's 
Hotel  was  so  short  That  it  was  passed  over  in  a  few  min- 
utes. 

Ismael  paid  and  dismissed  the  cab,  and  the  two  gentlemen 
went  in. 

Ishmael's  rooms  in  that  house  had  never  been  given  up; 
they  had  been  kept  for  the  use  of  his  party,  on  their  journey- 
ings  through  the  city. 

He  conducted  Mr.  Brudenell  to  these  rooms,  and  then  or- 
dered luncheon  as  soon  as  it  could  be  served,  and  a  fly  in 
half  an  hour. 

Twenty  minutes  they  gave  to  that  "renovation"  of  the 
toilet  advised  by  Ishmael,-  ten  minutes  to  a  simple  luncheon 
of  cold  meat  and  bread,  and  then  they  entered  the  fly. 

Ishmael  gave  the  order: 

"To  Cameron  Court." 

As  they  moved  on  Mr.  Brudenell  said: 

"There  are  several  points  txpon  which  I  would  like  to  con- 
sult you  before  presenting  myself  to  the  countess." 


3o6      Tlie  Meeting  of  the  Severed  Pair. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Islimael,  looking  up  with  a  smile  full  of 
earnest  encouragement. 

''But  like  all  procrastinating  natures,  I  have  deferred  the 
task  until  the  last  moment." 

"There  has  been  no  better  opportunity  than  the  present, 
eir." 

"That  is  true !  Well,  Ishraael !  the  first  doubt  that  troubles 
ine  is  this:  That  I  should  not,  perhaps,  intrude  upon  the 
countess,  without  first  writing  and  apprising  her  of  my  in- 
tended visit.  My  appearance  will  be  unexpected,  startling, 
even  embarrassing  to  her.''" 

"Xo,  sir,  no;  trust  me  it  will  not!  If  I  have  read  that 
gentle  lady's  heart  aright,  she  has  been  always  hoping  to 
see  you;  and  with  the  expectation  that  is  born  of  hope,  she 
has  been  always  looking  for  you.  No  strange,  unnatural 
appearance  will  you  seem  to  Lady  Ilurstmonceux,  believe  me, 
sir.  And,  moreover,  she  has  reason  to  expect  you  now.  Lis- 
ten, sir!  It  was  the  day  after  I  heard  her  story  of  Cap- 
tain Dugald's  midnight  visit  and  the  evil  it  brought  her,  I 
begged  from  her  the  loan  of  that  miniature,  which  I  showed 
you.  And  I  do  think  she  half  suspected  the  use  that  I  was 
about  to  put  it  to.  She  loaned  it  to  me  freely,  without 
question  and  without  reserve.  And  she  knew  at  the  time 
that  I  was  going  directly  to  your  presence.  And  finally,  on 
tlie  day  before  yesterday,  when  writing  to  Judge  Merlin, 
I  mentioned  my  hope  that  you  would  accompany  me  to 
Edinboro'.  So  you  see,  sir.  Lady  Ilurstmonceux  is  not  en- 
tirely unprepared  to  receive  you." 

"Ah!  but  how  will  she  receive  me,  Ishmael?  And  how, 
indeed,  shall  I  present  myself  to  her  ?" 

"She  will  welcome  you  with  joy,  sir;  believe  it!  But 
you  need  not  take  her  by  surprise,  sir,  even  supposing  that 
she  does  not  expect  you.  Inded,  in  no  event  would  it  be  well 
that  you  should  risk  doing  so.  When  we  reach  Cameron 
Court  you  can  remain  in  the  fly,  while  I  go  in  and  to  her 
ladyship  alone  and  announce  your  arrival." 

"Thank  you,  Ishmael.  Tour  plan  is  a  good  one  and  I 
will  adopt  it.  And  now  another  thing,  my  dear  boy,  Ish- 
mael, you  have  always  refused  to  be  publicly  acknowledged 
as  my  son " 

"You  know  why,  sir;  I  will  not  have  unmerited  reproach 
thrown  upon  my  sainted  mother's  memory.  She  was  a  mar- 
tyr to  your  mistake;  it  must  never  be  supposed  that,  she 
was  a  victim  to  her  own  weakness." 

"Enough,  Ishmael !  enough ;  I  will  not  lu-ge  the  point,  al- 
though heaven  only  knows  how  great  is  the  sacrifice  1  make 
in  resigning  the  hope  that  you  would  take  my  name  and  in- 
herit what  is  left  of  the  family  estates.  But,  there,  Ishmael  I 
I  will  say  no  more  upon  that  point!    You  will  oontinus  to 


The  Meeting  of  tlie  Severed  Pair.      36/ 

fear  your  mother's  name — the  name  that  you  have  already 
made  famous— and  that,  I  feel  sure  you  will  make  illustrious. 
80  no  more  of  that.  But  what  I  wished  particularly  to  con- 
sult you  about  is  the  propriety  of  confiding  to  the  countess'' 
the  secret  of  our  relationship.  Ishmael,  it  shall  be  just  as  you. 
please." 

"Then,  sir,  tell  her  all;  have  no  secrets  from  the  countess? 
she  merits  all  your  confidence,  but  tell  her  the  circumstance* 
Under  which  you  married  my  dear  mother,  that  Nora  Worthi 
may  be  held  blameless  by  her  forever,"  said  Ishmael,  sol- 
emnly. 

It  was  strange  to  hear  this  miiidle-aged  gentleman  seeding- 
counsel  from  this  young  man ;  but  so  it  was  that  all  who  were 
trought  within  the  circle  of  Ishmael's  influence  consulted 
him  as  an  early  Christian  might  have  consulted  a  young  St. 
John.  Ishmael  had  not  the  experience  that  only  age  can 
bring;  but  he  had  that  clear,  strong,  moral  and  intellectual 
insight;,  which  only  purity  of  heart  and  life  can  give.  And. 
iience  his  counsels  were  always  wise  and  good. 

It  was  six  o'clock  when  they  reached  Cameron  Court. 

When  the  carriage  drew  up  before  the  principal  entrance 
Ishmael  observed  that  Mr.  Brudenell  had  become  very  much 
agitated. 

"Compose  yourself,  dear  sir;  compose  yourself  with  the 
reflection  that  it  is  only  a  loving  woman  you  are  about  to 
meet;  a  woman  who  loves  you  constantly  and  will  welcome 
you  with  delight.  Eemain  here  until  I  go  in  and  announce 
your  visit;  then  I  will  return  for  you,"  he  said,  pressing 
Mr.  Brudenell's  hand  as  he  left  the  carriage. 

The  professor  opened  the  door  for  Mr.  Worth.  There  was 
no  regular  porter  at  Cameron  Court,  but  Dr.  James  Morris 
was  acting  in  that  capacity. 

"All  well,  professor?" 

"All  well,  sir.  The  judge  and  Lady  Vincent  have  gone 
out  for  an  airing  in  the  close  carriage.  We  expect  them 
back  to  dinner,  which  will  be  served  presently.  You  are 
just  in  time,  sir." 

Ishmael  was  for  once  glad  to  hear  that  the  judge  and  his 
daughter  were  absent,  and  that  the  countess  was  alone.  But, 
then,  suddenly  he  reflected  that  this  latter  supposition  was 
not  so  certain,  and  he  anxiously  inquired: 

"Is  the  countess  at  home,  professor  ?" 

"Yes,  sir ;  her  ladyship  is  in  the  library,  reading." 
-"Alone?"  ^  ,   '    ' 

"Quite  alone,  sir." 

"That  will  do ;  I  can  find  her,"  said  Ishmael,  ascending  the 

atairs  and  turning  into  the  direction  of  the  library,  which 

was  situated  on  the  first  floor. 

^Berenice,  dressed  in  a  rich  but  simply-made  black  yelvet 
20  -        - 


3o8      Tlie  Meeting  of  tlie  Severed  Pair. 

Tobe,  with  delicate  white  lace  uuder-sleevea  and  collar,  cal 
near  the  centre-table  before  the  fire,  reading.  Her  head  was 
bent  over  her  book,  and  her  rich  black  ringlets  fell  forward, 
half  shading  her  beautiful  dark  face. 

She  raised  her  eyes  when  Ishmael  entered,  and  seeing  who 
it  was,  she  threw  aside  her  book  and  started  up  to  meet 
him. 

"Welcome,  Mr.  Worth  I  welcome  back  again!"  she  cried, 
oifering  her  hand. 

Ishmael  took  that  beautiful  little  brown  hand  and  held  it 
within  his  own  as  he  said: 

"Thank  you,  Lady  Ilurstmonceux.  I  am  really  very  glad 
to  get  back.    But " 

"What,  Mr.  Worth?" 

"I  do  not  come  alone.  Lady  Hurstmonceux." 

Her  countenance  suddenly  changed.  Her  voice  sank  to 
a  whisper,  as  she  inquired: 

"Who  is  with  you?" 

Dropping  his  voice  to  the  low  tone  of  hers,  Ishmael  an- 
swered : 

"Mr.  Brudenell." 

The  countess  snatched  her  hand  from  his  grasp,  threw 
herself  into  the  nearest  chair,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
and  60  remained  for  several  minutes. 

At  last  Ishmael  approached  and  leaned  over  her,  and,  speak- 
ing in  a  subdued  and  gentle  voice,  said : 

"This  visit  is  not  wholly  unexpected.  Lady  Hurstmon- 
ceux  ?" 

"Ko,  no,  Mr.  Worth,"  she  murmured,  without  removiixg  the 
shield  of  her  hands. 

"Nor  unwelcome,  I  hope?" 

"No !  oh,  no !"  she  said,  dropping  her  hands  now  and  look- 
ing up,  pale  and  faintly  smiling. 

"You  will  see  him  then?"  said  Ishmael,  speaking,  as  he 
had  spoken  throughout  the  interview,  in  a  low,  gentle  tone. 

"Presently.  Give  me  a  little  time.  Oh!  I  have  waited  for 
him  so  long,  Ishmael  1"  she  said,  with  an  involuntary  burst  of 
confidence.  But  then  every  one,  even  the  most  reserved,  con- 
fided in  Ishmael  Worth. 

"I  have  waited  for  him  so  long !  so  long !"  she  repeated.  _ 

"He  has  come  at  last,  dearest  lady !  come  to  devote  his  life  _ 
to  you,,  if  you  will  accept  the  offering,"  Ishmael  murmured," 
bending  over  her. 

^"Oh,  Mr.  Worth,  I  am  sure  that  I  owe  this  happiness  to 
you!"  the  countess  exclaimed,  fervently,  clasping  his  hand 
and  holding  it  while  she  repeated — "  'Blessed  are  the  peace- 
makers, for  they  shall  be  called  the  children  of  God.' " 

Slowly  and  reverently  Ishmael  bowed  his  head  at  the  hear* 
isg  of  tkiSQ  words. 


The  Meeting  of  the  Severed  Pair.      309 

''Where  is  he,  Mr.  Worth?"  at  length  breathed  Berenice. 

"In  the  carriage  outside,  awaiting  your  pleasure." 

"Bring  him  to  me,  then,"  she  said,  pressing  his  hand 
warmly  before  she  relinquished  it. 

Ishmael  returned  that  pressure,  and  then  went  out  to  speak 
to  Mr.  Brudenell. 

"Come  in,  sir;  she  invites  you,"  he  said. 

Herman  Brudenell  stepped  out  of  the  carriage  and  en- 
tered with  Ishmael.  He  threw  his  eyes  around  upon  the  mag- 
nificence that  surrounded  him.  Was  all  this  really  to  be  his 
own?  the  gift  of  that  sweet  lady's  slighted  love?  He  could 
scarcely  believe  it. 

Ishmael  led  him  through  the  halls  and  up  the  stairs  to 
the  library. 

"She  is  in  there  alone,"  he  whispered. 

"Go  in  with  me,  Ishmael,"  whispered  the  other. 

But  Ishmael  shook  his  head,  smiled,  opened  the  door,  an- 
Dounced : 

"Mr.  Brudenell,  Lady  Hurstmonceux,"  shut  it  and  re- 
tired. 

Herman  Brudenell  found  himself  alone  in  the  library  with 
his  long-neglected  wife. 

She  was  sitting  in  the  arm-chair,  where  Ishmael  had  left 
her.  She  arose  to  met  her  visitor;  then  suddenly  turned 
deadly  pale  and  sunk  back  in  her  chair,  overcome  by  her 
emotions,  but  even  in  so  sinking  she  stretched  her  hands 
out  to  him  in  welcome,  in  invitation,  in  entreaty. 

Slowly  and  deferentially  he  approached  this  woman,  so  holy 
in  her  immortal  love.  And  dropping  on  one  knee,  beside  her 
chair,  he  bent  his  head  and  murmured  in  a  broken  voice: 

"Bei'enice — Berenice — can  you  forgive — all  these  long,  long 
years  of  cruel  injustice?" 

"Oh,  bless  you!  bless  you,  Herman,  for  coming  at  last; 
I  am  so  glad,  so  glad  to  see  you!"  she  said,  drawing  his 
bowed  head  to  her  bosom,  dropping  her  face  caressingly  upon 
it  and  bursting  into  tears. 

A  few  minutes  passed  and  he  was  sitting  by  her  side,  with 
her  hand  clasped  in  his,  telling  her  the  story  of  the  sinful  and 
sorrowful  past,  and  imploring  her  forgiveness. 

Would  she  forgive  him? 

Reader !  Berenice  was  one  of  those  woman  whom  the  wis- 
dom of  this  world  can  never  understand;  one  of  those  women 
who  love  purely  and  passionately;  who  love  but  once  and 
love  forever.  She  loved  Herman  Brudenell !  And  in  saying 
this  I  answer  all  questions.  She  would  not  acknowledge  that 
she  had  anything  to  forgive;  she  was  glad  to  give  him  her- 
self and  all  that  she  possesssed;  she  was  glad  to  make  him  the 
absolute  master  of  her  person  and  her  fortune.  And  in  giv- 
ing all  she  received  all,  for  as  she  loved  she  was  happy. 


310      The  Meeting  ot  the  bevered  ran. 

After  some  little  time  had  elapsed,  and  they  liad  both  re- 
covered from  the  agitation  of  the  meeting,  the  countess  look- 
ing up  at  him,  inquired: 

"Who  is  Ishmael  Worth?  Who  is  this  young  man;  so 
stately,  yet  so  gracious?  so  commanding,  yet  so  meek?  who 
walks  among  other  men  as  a  young  king  should,  but  as  a 
young  king  never  does !    Who  is  he  ?" 

*'He  is  my  son,"  said  Herman  Brudenell,  proudly  but  shy- 
ly; "my  son,  the  child  of  that  unfortunate  marriage  con- 
tracted when  I  supposed  that  you  were  lost  to  me!  lost  to 
me  in  every  way,  my  Berenice.  That  marriage  of  which  I 
have  already  told  you.  Do  you  forgive  me,  for  hira  also, 
Berenice  ?" 

"I  congratulate  you  on  him;  for  be  is  a  son  to  be  very 
proud  of.  I  glory  in  him !  for  he  is  now  my  son  also !"  said 
this  generous  woman,  fervently.  - 

Herman  Brudenell  raised  her  hand  and  pressed  it  to  his 
lips. 

"Oh,  Herman,  I  knew  it !  I  knew  it  twenty  years  ago,  when 
I  went  to  the  Hill  Hut  and  begged  the  babe  to  bring  up  as 
my  own!"  she  said. 

"You  did  ?     Berenice !  how  divinely  good  you  are !" 

"Good! — Why  I  only  sought  my  own  comfort  in  the  babe. 
You  were  lost  to  me  for  the  time,  and  your  child  was  the  best 
consolation  I  could  have  found.  However,  his  stern  kins- 
woman would  not  let  me  have  him:  would  not  even  lot  me 
help  him;  denied  that  he  was  yours,  and  almost  turned  me  out 
of  doors." 

"That  was  so  like  Hannah!" 

"But  now  at  last  he  is  mine!  my  gifted  son!  how  I  shall 
rejoice  in  him!" 

"He  is  yours,  Berenice,  as  far  as  the  most  profound  es- 
teem and  love  can  make  hira  yours.  But  Ishmael  will  never 
consent  to  be  publicly  acknowledged  by  me,"  said  Herman 
Brudenell,  sorowfully. 

"But  why?"  inquired  the  countess,  in  astonishment. 

"For  his  mother's  sake.  Islunael  cherishes  the  most  chiv- 
alric  devotion  for  his  angel  mother,  and  I  think  also  for  all 
mortal  women,  for  her  sake.  He  bears  her  name,  and  is  fond 
of  it  and  will  ever  bear  it,  that  whatever  fame  he  may  win  in 
this  world  may  be  identified  with  it.  He  has  vowed,  with  the 
blessing  of  heaven,  to  make  the  name  of  Worth  illustrious, 
and  he  will  do  so." 

"A  chivalric  devotion,  truly;  and  how  beautiful  it  is!  He 
is  already,  though  so  young,  a  distinguished  member  of  thfl 
Washington  bar,  I  hear.  How  did  he  get  his  education  and 
his  profession  ; — that  poor  boy,  whom  I  remember  in  his  child- 
hood as  tramping  the  country  with  tho.  old  odd-job  man- 
that  very  'professor'  who  attends  him  as  his  servant  now  i 


The  Meeting  of  tte  Severed  Paif,      31 1 

You  found  him  and  educated  him  at  last,  I  suppose,  Her- 
man?" 

A  fiery  flush  arose  to  Mr.  Bruden  ell's  brow,  displacing  his 
habitual  paleness. 

"No,  Berenice,  no !  not  to  me,  not  to  any  human  being  does 
Ishmael  owe  education  or  profession :  but  to  God  and  to  him- 
self alone.  Never  was  a  boy  born  in  this  world  under  more 
adverse  circumstances.  His  birth,  in  its  utter  destitution, 
reminds  me  (I  speak  it  with  the  deepest  reverence)  of  that 
other  birth  in  the  manger  of  Bethlehem.  His  infancy  was 
a  struggle  for  the  very  breath  of  life ;  his  childhood  for  bread ; 
his  youth  for  education;  and  nobly,  nobly  has  he  sustained 
this  struggle,  and  gloriously  has  he  succeeded.  We  are  yet  in 
onr  prims,  my  dear  Berenice,  and  I  feel  sure  that  if  we  live 
out  the  three  score  years  and  ten  allotted  as  the  term  of  hu- 
man life,  we  shall  see  Ishmael  at  the  zenith  of  human  great- 
ness." 

So  carried  away  had  Mr.  Brudenell  been  in  making  this 
tribute  to  Ishmael  that  he  had  forgotten  to  explain  the  cir- 
cumstances that  would  have  exonerated  him  from  the  sus- 
picion of  having  culpably  neglected  his  child.  Berenice 
brought  him  back  to  his  recollection  by  saying: 

"But  I  am  sure  you  must  have  made  some  provision  for 
this  boy ;  how  was  it,  then,  that  he  never  derived  any  benefit 
from  it  ?  How  was  it  that  he  was  left  from  the  hour  of  his 
birth  to  suffer  the  crudest  privations,  until  the  age  of  seven 
years,  when  he  began  to  support  himself,  and  to  help  to  sup- 
port his  aunt?" 

"You  are  right,  Berenice;  I  made  a  provision  for  him; 
but  I  left  the  country,  and  he  never  had  the  good  of  it.  I 
will  explain  how  that  was  by-and-by;  but  I  believe  the  loss 
of  it  was  providential.  I  believe  it  was  intended  from  the 
first  that  Ishmael  should  'owe  no  man  anything/  for  life, 
or  bread,  or  education,  or  profession ;  but  all  to  God  and  God's 
blessing  on  his  own  efforts.  He  is  self-made.  I  know  no  other 
man  in  history  to  whom  the  term  can  be  so  perfectly  well 
applied." 

"Will  you  tell  me  all  you  know  of  his  early  struggles  ?  I 
am  so  interesl:ed  in  this  stately  son  of  yours,"  said  Berenice, 
who,  while  admiring  Ishmael  herself,  saw  also  that  lie  was 
the  theme  above  all  others  that  Mr.  Brudenell  loved  to  dwell 
upon. 

^  Herman  Brudenell  told  the  story  of  Ishmael's  heroic  young 
life,  as  he  had  gathered  it  from  many  sources. 
^  And  Berenice  listened  in  admiration,  in  wondei",  and  some- 
times in  tears. 

And  yet  it  was  only  the  plain  story  of  a  poor  boy  who 
Struggled  up  out  of  the  depths  of  poverty,  shame  and  ignor- 
ancset.  tC  cocipetence,  honoTj,  and  distiactioni  a  story  that 


312       The  Meeting  of  tlie  Severed  Pair. 

may  be  repeated  again  in  the  person  of  the  obscurest  boy 
that  reads  these  lines. 

After  a  little  while,  given  to  meditation  on  what  she  had 
heard,  Berenice,  with  her  hand  still  clasped  in  that  of  Her- 
man Brudenell,  looked  np  at  him  and  said: 

**Your  mother  and  sisters?" 

Slowly  and  sadly  Mr.  Brudenell  shook  his  head: 

"Ah,  Berenice,  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  now  of  a  family 
self-marred,  as  a  set-off  to  the  boy  self-made." 

And  then  he  told  the  grievous  story  of  the  decadence  of 
the  Brudenell  ladies,  not,  of  course,  forgetting  the  mad  mar- 
raige  of  Eleanor  Brudenell  with  the  profligate  Captain  Du- 
gald. 

While  Berenice  was  still  wondering  over  these  family  mis- 
takes and  misfortunes,  a  footman  opened  the  door,  and  said: 

"My  lady,  dinner  is  served." 

"Have  Judge  Merlin  and  Lady  Vincent  returned  from 
their  drive?"  inquired  the  countess.  '"' 

"Yes,  my  lady;  the  judge  and  her  ladyship  are  in  the 
drawing-room  with  Mr.  Worth." 

"Mr.  Brudenell,  will  you  give  me  your  arm?"  said  the 
countess,  rising,  with  a  smile. 

Herman  Brudenell  bowed  and  complied.  And  they  left 
the  library  and  passed  on  to  the  little  drawing-room. 

As  they  entered  they  saw  Judge  Merlin,  Ishmael,  and 
Claudia  standing,  grouped  in  conversation,  near  the  tire. 

The  situation  of  this  long-severed  and  suddenly  reunited 
pair  was  certainly  rather  embarrassing,  especially  to  the  lady; 
and  to  almost  any  other  one  it  would  have  been  overwhelming. 
But  Berenice  was  a  refined,  cultivated,  and  dignified  woman 
of  society ;  such  a  woman  never  loses  her  self-possession ;  she 
is  always  mistress  of  the  situation.  Berenice  was  so  now. 
But  for  the  bright  light  in  her  usually  pensive  dark  eyes, 
and  the  rosy  flush  on  her  habitually  pale  cheeks,  there  waa 
no  difference  in  her  aspect  as,  with  her  hand  lightly  resting 
on  Mr.  Brudenell's  arm,  she  advanced  toward  the  group. 

Claudia  turned  around,  not  altogether  in  surprise,  for 
Ishmael  had  thoughtfully  prepared  them  all  for  this  new 
addition  to  the  family  circle. 

"Lady  Vincent,  I  believe  you  have  already  met  my  husband, 
Mr.  Brudenell,"  said  the  countess,  gravely  presenting  him 
to  her  guest.  And  the  form  of  her  words  purposely  revealed 
the  reconciliation  that  had  just  been  sealed. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  Mr.  Brudenell  well,  and  T  am  very  glad 
to  see  him  again,"  said  Claudia,  offering  her  hand. 

"I  had  the  honor  of  passing  some  weeks  in  Lady  Vincent'a 
company  at  her  father's  house  in  Washington,"  said  Mr* 
Brudenell,  gravely  bowing. 

He  nest  turned  aixd  ahook  hands  vitb  Judge  Merlla* 


Home  Again.  513 

But  tte  oM  man  fetained  his  hand,  and  took  also  that  of 
ihe  coimtess,  and  as  the  tears  sprang  to  his  aged  eyes,  he 

"Dear  Brudenell,  and  dearest  lady,  I  sympathize  with  you 
in  this  reunion  with  all  my  heart!  May  you  be  very  happy! 
God  bless  youl"  and,  pressing  both  their  hands,  he  relin- 
quished them.  ,:'* 

Mr.  Brudenell  and  the  countess  simultaneously  bowed  in 
silent  acknowledgment  of  this  benediction. 

Claudia  involuntarily  looked  up  to  Ishmael's  face;  their 
eyes  met — hers  betraying  the  yearning  anguish  of  a  fam- 
ishing heart,  and  his  the  most  earnest  sympathy,  the  most 
reverential  com.passion.  Why  did  Claudia  look  at  him  so?-^ 
Ah !  because  she  could  not  help  it.  What  was  she  dreaming 
of?  Perhaps  of  another  possible  reunion,  that  would  com- 
pensate her  for  all  the  woful  past,  and  bless  her  in  all  the 
happy  future ! 

A  moment  more,  and  the  folding-doors  connecting  the 
drawing-room  with  the  dining-room  were  thrown  open. 

"Mr.  Brudenell,  will  you  take  Lady  Vincent  in  to  din- 
ner ?"  said  the  countess^  with  a  smile,  as  she  herself  gave  hep 
hand  to  Ishmael. 

And  thus  they  passed  into  the  dining-room. 

But  for  the  sadness  of  one  mourning  spirit  present,  the 
dinner  was  a  pleasant  one.  And  the  reunion  in  the  drawing- 
room  that  evening  was  calmly  happ>. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

HOME  AGAIN. 

It  had  been  decided  in  consultation  betwean  Judge  Merlin 
and  Ishmael  that,  under  existing  circumstances,  it  would 
be  proper  for  their  party  to  shorten  their  visit  to  Cameron 
Court,  and  leave  the  recently  reconciled  pair  to  the  enjoyment 
©f  their  own  exclusive  company. 

And  accordingly,  while  they  were  all  seated  at  luncheon 
the  next  day,  Wednesday,  Judge  Merlin  announced  their 
departure  for  Thursday  morning. 

This  announcement  was  met  by  a  storm  of  hospitable  ex- 
postulation. Both  the  countess  and  Mr.  Brudenell  strongly 
cbjected  to  the  early  departure  of  their  visitors  and  urged 
their  prolonged  stay. 

But  to  all  this  friendly  solicitation,  the  judge  replied: 

,  '^My  dear  countess,  painful  as  it  will  be  to  us  all  to  leave 

fJameron  Court,  there  are  imperative  reasons  for  our  doing 

BO,    It  is  not  only  that  we  have  engaged  our  passages  on  the 

«tetiQcier  that  gails  on  th@  fifteenth  of  tMs  monih  o|  February, 


,'T,.a\am 


314  Home  Again. 

but  that  unless  we  really  do  sail  on  that  day,  we  shall  not 
have  sufficient  time  to  cross  the  ocean  and  get  into  port 
before  the  stormy  month  of  March  sets  in." 

"But  this  is  only  Wednesday.  The  'Columbus'  does  not 
Bail  until  Saturday  next.  You  might  stay  with  us  a  week 
longer,  and  then  have  abundant  time  to  run  down  to  Liver- 
pool and  get  comfortably  embarked,"  said  the  countess. 

"Thank  you,  dear  lady;  but  the  truth  is,  I  wiih  I0  show 
my  daughter  London  before  we  sail,"  replied  the  judge, 

"The  truth  is,"  said  the  countess,  smiling,  "that  you  are 
all  weary  of  Cameron  Court!  Well!  So  I  will  no  longer 
oppose  your  departure.  Very  early  in  life  I  learned  the 
two-fold  duty  of  hospitality:  'to  greet  the  coming,  speed  the 
parting  guest.' " 

"Lady  Hurstmonceux,  we  are  not  weary  of  Cameron  Court! 
On  the  contrary  we  are  attached  to  it,  warmly  attached  to 
it ;  we  have  been  happier  here  than  we  could  have  been  any- 
where else,  while  under  our  adverse  circumstances.  And  we 
shall  take  leave  of  you,  madam,  with  the  deepest  regret — 
regret  only  to  be  softened  by  the  hope  of  seeing  you  som« 
time  in  America,"  said  the  judge,  gravely. 

The  countess  bowed  and  smiled,  but  did  not  in  any  other 
manner  reply. 

"Oh,  Berenice !  dear  Berenice !  you  will  come  out  to  see  us, 
Bome  time,  will  you  not?"  urged  Claudia. 

The  countess  looked  toward  her  husband  with  that  proud, 
fond  deference  which  loving  wives  glory  in  bestowing,  and 
she  said: 

"When  Mr.  Brudenell  visits  his  mother  and  sisters  I  shall 
of  course  accompany  him,  and  we  shall  spend  a  portion  of 
our  time  at  Tanglewood,  if  you  will  permit  us." 

"Berenice !  Berenice !  what  words  you  use.  You  know 
how  happy  we  should  be  to  see  you !"  said  Claudia. 

"And  how  honored,"  said  the  judge. 

Lady  Hurstmonceux  smiled  on  Claudia,  and  bowed  to  the 
judge. 

And  then  the  circle  arose  from  the  luncheon  table  and 
dispersed. 

That  day  Ishmael  wrote  to  Bee,  announcing  the  speedy 
Teturn  of  himself  and  his  party. 

And  Judge  Merlin  wrote  to  his  manager,  Reuben  Gray, 
to  have  the  house  at  Tanglewood  prepared  for  the  reception 
of  himself  and  daughter  on  or  before  the  first  of  March. 

Early  on  Thursday  morning,  our  party  took  a  most  affec- 
tionate leave  of  their  friends  at  Cameron  Court,  and  set  out 
in  one  of  the  countess's  carriages  for  the  railway  station  at 
Edinboro',  which  they  reached  in  time  to  catch  the  ten  o'clock 
express  for  London. 

^  twelvQ-hows'  flight  southv.ard  brought  them  into  thg 


Home  Again.  315 

city  It  was  ten  o'clock,  therefore,  when  they  ran  into  the 
King's  Cross  Station.  There  they  took  a  fly  to  Morley's  Ho- 
tel, in  the  Strand,  where  they  arrived  about  eleven  o'clock. 

They  engaged  a  suite  of  apartments,  and  settled  them- 
selves there  for  a  week. 

A  very  brief  epitome  must  describe  their  life  in  London 
during  that  short  period. 

It  was  Thursday  night  when  they  arrived. 

On  Friday  morning  they  visited  the  Tower,  taking  the  whole 
•day  for  the  study  of  that  ancient  fortress  and  its  awful 
traditions.  And  in  the  evening  they  went  to  Drury  Lane^ 
to  see  Kean  in  "Macbeth." 

On  Saturday  morning  they  went  to  Westminster  Abbey. 
And  in  the  evening  to  Covent  Garden. 

On  Sunday  they  attended  divine  service  at  St.  Paul's, 
morning  and  afternoon.  And  they  spent  the  evening  quietly 
at  home. 

On  Monday  they  visited  the  two  houses  of  Parliament. 
And  in  the  evening  they  went  to  the  Polj^technic. 

On  Tuesday  they  went  over  the  old  prison  at  Newgate. 
And  in  the  evening  they  heard  a  celebrated  philanthropist 
lecture  at  Exeter  Hall. 

On  Wednesday  they  went  down  to  Windsor  and  went  over 
Windsor  Castle,  park  and  forest.  And  they  spent  the  even- 
ing looking  over  the  illustrated  guide-books  that  describe  these 
places. 

On  Thursday  morning  they  retiirned  to  London,  and  em- 
ployed the  day  in  shopping  and  other  preparations  for  their 
homeward  journey. 

And  Ishmael,  among  his  more  important  purchases,  did 
not  forget  the  dolls  for  little  Molly,  nor  the  box  of  miniature 
carpenter's  tools  for  Johnny.  They  passed  this  last  evening 
of  their  stay  quietly  at  home. 

On  Friday  morning  they  left  London  for  Liverpool,  where 
they  arrived  at  nightfall. 

They  put  up  at  the  "Adelphi,"  the  hotel  favored  by  all 
American  travelers,  and  where  they  f 0 md  all  their  national 
tastes  gratified. 

Early  on  Saturday  morning  they  embarked  on  their 
homeward-bound  steamer  and  sailed  from  England. 

They  were  blessed  with  one  of  the  most  favorable  voy- 
ages on  record.  The  wind  was  fair,  the  sky  was  blue,  and 
the  sea  smooth  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  their  voy- 
age. And  on  the  evening  of  the  tenth  day  out  they  ran 
safely  into  the  harbor  of  New  York.  This  was  Thursday,  the 
twenty-fifth  of  February. 

The  evening  mail  for  the  South  had  not  yet  gone.  And 
while  waiting  in  the  ofiice  of  the  Custom  House,  Ishmael 
wrote  to  Bee,  aneouncing  the  safe  arrival  of  his  party;  and 


3i6  Home  Again. 

the  judge  clashed  off  a  few  lines  to  Eeuhen  Gray,  warning 
him  vo  have  all  things  ready  to  receive  the  returning  voy- 
agers. 

Only  one  night  they  rested  in  the  city,  and  then  on  Friday 
morning  they  left  New  York,  taking  the  shortest  route  to 
Tanglewood — namely,  by  railroad  as  far  as  Baltimore,  and 
then  by  steamboat  to  Shelton,  on  the  Potomac, 

Our  whole  party  landed  at  Shelton  on  Saturday  evening. 

The  judge  dispatched  a  messenger  on  horseback  from  tha 
little  hotel  to  Tanglewood>  to  order  Reuben  Gray  to  have  the 
fires  kindled  and  supper  ready  against  their  arrival. 

And  then,  after  some  little  search — for  the  hamlet  boasted 
few  hackney-coaches — they  found  a  carriage  for  the  judge 
and  his  companions  and  a  wagon  for  the  servants  and  the 
luggage. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  they  reached  Tanglewood. 

Hannah  and  Reuben  were  standing  out  under  the  star- 
light, listening  for  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  they  ran  for- 
ward to  greet  them  as  they  alighted  from  the  carriage. 

"Oh,  welcome!  welcome  home,  sir!  Thank  God,  I  receive 
you  safe  again!"  exclaim^ed  Reuben  Gray,  as  he  grasped  the 
judge's  extended  hand  and  wept  for  joy. 

"Thank  you!  Thank  you.  Gray!  I'm  happy  to  be  home 
once  more." 

"Oh,  my  boy!  my  boy!  Oh  my  boy!  my  boy!  Do  I  see 
you  again!  Do  I  really  see  you  again?  Thank  heaven! 
Oh,  thank  heaven!"  cried  Hannah,  bursting  into  a  passion 
of  tears  as  she  threw  her  arms  around  Ishmael's  neck  and  was 
pressed  to  his  affectionate  heart. 

"God  bless  you,  dear  Aunt  Hannah!  I  am  very  glad  to 
come  to  you  again !    How  are  the  little  ones  ?" 

"Oh,  as  well  as  possible,  dear !" 

"Speak  to  Lady  Vincent,"  whispered  Ishmael. 

"Madam,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  home  once  more,  but 
Borry  to  see  you  in  such  deep  mourning,"  said  Hannah,  re- 
spectfully. 

Judge  Merlin  then  hurried  the  whole  party  out  of  the  bit- 
ing winter  air  into  the  house. 

Here  they  found  all  things  ready  for  them,  the  fires  kindled, 
the  rooms  warmed,  the  tables  set  in  the  comfortable  parlor, 
and  the  supper  ready  to  be  dished. 

They  took  time  only  to  make  a  very  slight  toilet  in  their 
well-warmed  chambers,  and  they  went  down  to  supper.  The 
judge  insisted  that  Ilanna  and  Reuben  should  join  them  on 
this  occasion  and  remain  their  guests  for  the  evening. 

And  what  a  happy  evening  it  was !  After  all  their  weary 
wanderings,  perils  and  sorrows  in  foreign  lands,  how  delight- 
ful to  be  at  home  once  more  in  their  dear  native  country, 
gathered  together  safely  under  one  beloved  roof,  and  lovingly 


Home  Again.  317 

eerved  by  their  own  affectionate  domestics!  Ah^i  one  must 
lose  all  these  blessings  for  a  while,  in  order  truly  to  enjoy 
them. 

How  earnest  was  the  thanksgiving  in  the  grace  uttered 
by  the  Judge  as  they  all  gathered  around  the  supper  table  I 
How  earnest  was  the  amen  silently  responded  by  each  heart  I 

After  supper  they  all  went  into  the  well-warmed  and 
lighted  crimson  drawing-room.  And  Claudia  sat  down  be- 
fore her  grand  piano,  and  tried  its  keys.  From  long  disuse 
it  was  somewhat  out  of  tune,  certainly ;  but  her  fingers  evoked 
from  the  keys. a  beautiful  prelude,  and  her  voice  arose  in  that 
simple  but  soul-stirring  little  ballad,  "Home  Again." 

As  she  sang  Ishmael  came  up  behind  her,  turned  the  leaves 
of  her  music  book,  and  accompanied  her  in  his  rich  bass  voice. 

At  the  end  of  that  one  song  she  arose  and  closed  her  piano. 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  judge,  drawing  his  daugh- 
ter to  him  and  kissing  her  cheek.  "Your  song  was  very  ap- 
propriate ;  there  is  not  one  here  who  could  not  enter  into  its 
sentiment  with  all  his  heart." 

Slowly  and  sadly  Claudia  bowed  her  head;  and  then  she 
passed  on  to  one  of  the  side  tables,  took  up  a  lighted  bed-room 
candle,  bade  them  all  good-night  and  retired. 

Reuben  and  Hannah,  who  on  this  occasion,  at  Judge  Mer- 
lin's request,  had  remained  in  the  drawing-room,  now  aro<5o 
and  took  a  respectful  leave.  And' soon  after  this,  Ishmael  and 
the  judge  separated  and  retired  to  their  respective  chambers. 

Ishmael  was  shown  into  that  one  which  he  had  occupied 
during  that  eventful  first  sojourn  at  Tanglewood.  How  full 
of  the  most  interesting  associations— the  most  tender  mem- 
ories— that  chamber  was.  There  was  the  bed  upon  which 
he  had  lain  for  weeks  a  mangled  sufferer  for  Claudia's  sake. 
There  was  the  very  same  arm-chair  in  which  she  had  sat  hour 
after  hour  by  his  side,  beguiling  the  tedious  days  of  con- 
valescence by  talking  with  him,  reading  to  him,  or  singing 
and  playing  to  him  on  her  guitar.  Sigh  after  sigh  burst 
from  Ishmael's  bosom  as  he  remembered  these  timea.  Ha 
went  to  bed,  but  could  not  sleep;  he  laid  awake  meditating 
and  praying. 

While  Ishmael  in  his  lonely  chamber  prayed,  another  scene 
was  going  on  in  another  part  of  the  house. 

Old  Katie  was  holding  a  reception  in  the  kitchen.  All  the 
house  servants,  all  the  field  laborers,  and  all  the  neighboring 
negroes — ^bond  and  free,  male  and  female — ^were  assembled 
at  Tanglewood  that  night  to  welcome  Katie  and  her  com- 
panions home  and  hear  their  wondrous  adventures  in  foreign 
lands. 

Katie,  in  the  most  gorgeous  dress  of  Scotch  plaid  that  dis- 
played the  most  brilliant  tints  of  scarlet,  blue  and  jellow, 
gurple,  orange  and  green,,  with  a  snow-white  twrban  on  he? 


31 8  Home  Again. 

head  and  a  snow-white  kerchief  aroajnd  her  neck,  with  broad 
gold  ear-rings  in  her  ears  and  thick  gold  finger-rings  on  her 
fingers — sat  in  the  seat  of  honor,  the  chip-bottom  arm  chair, 
and,  for  the  benefit  of  the  natives,  delivered  a  lecture  on  tho 
jnanners  and  customs  of  foreign  nations,  illustrated  by  her 
own  experiences  among  them. 

Now,  if  Katie  had  only  related  the  plain  facts  of  her  life 
in  Scotland  and  in  the  West  India  Islands  they  had  been 
sufficiently  interesting  to  her  simple  hearers. 

But  Katie  exaggerated  her  adventures,  wrongs  and  sufi'er- 
ings  beyond  all  hope  of  pardon. 

"I  seen  the  Queen,"  she  said.  "She  rode  about  in  a  silver 
coach  drawed  by  a  hundred  milk-white  bosses,  wid  a  golden 
crown  on  her  head  a  yard  and  a  half  high !  And  viore  niggers 
to  wait  on  her,  chillun,  dan  you  could  shake  sticks  at." 

The  least  of  her  fictions  was  this: 

"Chillun,  I  was  fust  kilt  dead,  den  buried  alibe,  and  kept 
60  till  wanted;  den  fetch  to  life  ag'in,  and  sold  to  pirates,  and 
took  off  to  de  Stingy  Isles,  and  sold  ag'in  into  slabery;  arter 
which  Marster  Ishmael  Worf  drapped  right  down  out'n  de 
clear  sky  inter  de  middle  ob  de  street,  and  if  you  don't  be- 
liebe  it  jes  go  ax  Marse  Ishmael  hisse'f,  as  nebber  told  a 
false  in  his  life !" 

"And  so  he  brought  you  away,  Katie?"  inquired  Reuben's 
Sam,  who  was,  of  course,  present. 

"Well,  I  jes  reckon  he  did  some!  He  made  dem  Stingy 
Island  barbariums  stan'  roun'  now,  I  tell  you,  cbilhin." 

Katie  went  on  with  her  lecture.  Her  version  of  the  fate  of 
Lord  Vincent,  Mrs,  Dugald  and  Frisbie  was  rather  a  free 
one. 

"I  walked  myse'f  right  'traight  up  to  de  Queen  soon  as 
ebber  I  totched  English  ground,  and  told  her  all  about  dem 
gran'  willians,  and  de  Queen  ordered  de  execution  ob  de  whole 
lot.  "Which  dey  was  all  hung  up  by  de  neck  till  dey  was  dead 
de  berry  next  mornin',"  she  said. 

"What!  all  hung  so  quick,  Katie!"  exclaimed  Sam,  in  as- 
tonishment. 

"All  hung !  Ebery  single  one  ob  dem !  my  lordship  and  do 
shamwally  and  de  whited-saltpetre !  all  hung  up  by  de  neck 
till  dey  was  dead,  in  de  middle  ob  de  street,  right  in  de  sight 
ob  ebberybody  goiug  along,  and  serbe  'em  right  and  hopes  it 
did  'em  good !"  said  Katie,  emi^hatically. 

"That  was  quick  work,  though,"  said  Sam,  dubiously. 

"Quick  work?  Dey  descrbed  it  quick!  and  quicker  dan 
dat!  Hi,  boy,  what  you  talkin'  'bout?  Didn't  dey  kill  me 
dead,  and  berry  me  alibe,  and  sell  me  inter  slabery?  You 
'spect  how  de  Queen  gwine  let  sich  goings  on  go  on  while  she's 
de  mist'ess  of  England?  No,  'deed!  not  arter  ghe  see  all  dey 
piade  me  duf  er !"  exploded  Kati&  _ 


Home  Again.  31.9 

"'Deed,  Aunt  Katie,  you  did  see  heep  o'  trouble,  didn't 
you?"  said  one  of  her  amazed  hearers. 

"Yes;  but,  you  see.  Aunt  Katie  wanted  to  see  de  worl'I 
'Member  how  she  used  to  tell  us  how  she  wasn't  a  tree  as 
couldn't  be  transplanted,  how  she  was  a  libin'  soul,  and  a 
p'og'essive  sperrit,  and  how  she  wanted  to  see  somefin'  ob  dis 
worl'  she  libbed  in  afore  she  parted  hence  and  beed  no  more  I" 
said  another. 

"Well,  I  reckon  you  has  seed  'nough  ob  de  worl'  now  I 
hasn't  you.  Aunt  Katie  ?"  inquired  a  third. 

"Well,  I  jes  reckon  I  has,  chillun.  I  nebber  wants  to  see 
no  more  ob  dis  worl'  long  as  ebber  I  libs  on  dis  yeth,  dere.  I 
be  satisfied  to  settle  down  here  at  Tanglewood  for  de  'main- 
der  ob  my  mortal  days,  and  thank  my  'Vine  Marster  down  on 
my  knees  as  I  has  got  here  safe,"  said  Katie. 

"If  I  was  you,.  Aunt  Katie,  I'  publish  my  travels,"  said 
Sam. 

"I  gwine  to,  honey,  'deed  is  I!  I  gwine  to  publish  um 
good,  too.  I  gwine  to  get  my  extinguish  friend,  de  professor 
dere,  to  write  um  all  down  fur  me;  and  I  gwine  to  publish 
um  good!  And  now,  Sam,  chile,  as  de  kettle  is  b'iling,  I 
wish  you  jes'  make  de  hot  punch,  'cause  I'se^dead  tired,  and 
arter  I  drinks  it  I  wants  to  go  to  bed." 

And  when  the  punch  was  made  and  served  around,  this 
circle  also  separated  for  the  night. 

The  next  morning,  before  breakfast,  Ishmael  walked 
through  the  forest  to  Woodside,  to  see  the  little  children  of 
\phom  he  was  so  fond. 

They  were  already  up  and  waiting  for  him  at  the  gate.  On 
seeing  him  they  rushed  out  to  meet  him  with  acclamations  of 
joy,  and  laid  hold  of  his  overcoat  and  began  to  pull  him  to- 
ward the  house. 

Ishmael  smiled  on  them,  and  talked  to  them,  and  would  have 
taken  them  up  in  his  arms,  but  that  his  arms  were  already 
full,  for  under  one  was  Molly's  family  of  dolls  and  under  the 
other  Johnny's  box  of  tools. 

Smilingly  he  suffered  them  to  pull  him  into  the  house,  and 
push  him  into  the  arm-chair,  and  climb  up  on  his  knees  and 
seize  and  search  his  parcels. 

Molly  knew  her  parcel  by  the  feet  of  the  dolls  protruding 
through  one  end  of  the  paper,  and  she  quickly  laid  hands  on 
it,  sat  down  flat  on  the  floor  and  tore  it  to  pieces,  revealing 
to  her  delighted  eyes — 

"Dolls,  and  more  dolls,  and  so  many  dolls!!!"  as  she 
ecstatically  expressed  it. 

Then,  in  the  midst  of  her  bliss,  she  suddenly  remembered 
her  benefactor,  dropped  all  her  treasures,  jumped  into  his 
lap,  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  said : 

"Oh,  cousin  Ishmael,  what  nretty  dolls  I    I  will  pray  to  the 


320  Home  Again. 

Lord  to  giv«  you  a  great  many  things  for  gmng  me  these." 

Ishmael  kissed  lier  very  gravely  and  said : 

"Pray  to  the  Lord  to  give  me  wisdom,  Molly,  for  that  Is 
the  best  of  all  gifts,  and  I  would  rather  a  child  should  ask 
it  for  me  than  a  bishop  should." 

And  he  sat  Molly  down  again  to  enjoy  her  treasures. 

Meanwhile  Johnny  had  torn  open  his  box  of  miniature 
carpenter's  tools  and  run  out  to  try  their  edges  on  the  fences 
and  out-houses;  and  all  without  one  word  of  thanks  to  the 
donor.  Boys,  you  know,  are  about  as  grateful  as  pigd,  who 
devour  the  acorns  without  ever  looking  up  to  see  whence 
they  come. 

At  the  moment  that  Ishmael  sat  Molly  down  upon  the  floor, 
Hannah  came  in  from  a  back  room^j  where  she  had  been  at 
work. 

On  seeing  the  dolls  she  lifted  both  her  hands  and  cried  out : 

"Oh,  Ishmael,  Ishmael,  what  extravagances !" 

"Not  at  all,  aunt.  Look  at  little  Molly!  See  how  much 
happiness  has  been  purchased  at  a  trifling  outlay,  and  talk 
no  more  of  extravagance,"  said  Ishmael,  rising  and  taking 
his  hat. 

"Where  are  you  going  now?  You  have  not  been  here  a 
minute,"  said  Hannah. 

"Pardon  me,  I  have  been  here  half  an  hour,  and  now  I 
must  go  back  to  Tanglewood,  because  they  will  wait  break- 
fast for  me  there." 

"Well,  I  declare!"  wrathfully  began  Hannah,  but  Ishmael 
gently  interrupted  her: 

"I  have  brought  a  fme  Scotch  tartan  shawl  for  you.  Aunt 
Hannah,  and  a  heavy  shepherd's  maud  for  Uncle  Reuben. 
They  are  such  articles  as  you  cannot  purchase  in  this  coun- 
try. I  will  send  them  to  you  by  one  of  the  servants.  I  would 
have  brought  them  myself,  only,  you  see,  my  arms  were  full.'* 

"Well,  I  should  think  so.  Thank  you,  Ishmael!  Thank 
you  very  much  indeed.  But  when  are  you  coming  here  to 
stop  a  bit?" 

"Just  as  soon  as  I  can.  Aunt  Hannah.  This  morning  I 
must  go  to  'The  Beacon.*  You  may  well  suppose  how  anxious 
I  am  to  be  there." 

"Humph !  I  thought  now  Mrs.  Lord  Vincent  was  a  widder, 
all  that  was  over." 

"Aunt  Hannah!!  What  do  you  take  me  for?"  exclaimed 
the  young  man,  in  sorrowful  astonishment. 

"Well,  Ishmael,  I  didn't  mean  to  insult  you,  so  you  needn't 
bite  my  head  off!"  snapped  Mrs.  Gray. 

"Good-by,  Aunt  Hannah !"  said  Ishmael,  stooping  and  kiss- 
ing her  cheek. 

He  hurried  away  and  walked  brisldy  through  the  woodg 
Und  reached  the  house  in  good  time  for  breakfast. 


Home  Again.  'jat 

^Liid  a  liappy  breakfast  it  was,  but  for  one  sad  face  there  r 
The  old  man  was  so  delighted  to  be  home  again,  under  his 
own  forest-shaded  roof,  seated  at  his  own  table,  attended  by 
his  own  affectionate  servants,  that  it  seemed  as  though  the 
years  had  rolled  back  in  their  course  and  restored  him  to  all 
the  freshness  of  his  youth. 

After  breakfast  Ishmael  arose  and  announced  his  departure 
for  "The  Beacon,"  and  requested  of  the  judge  the  loan  of  two 
saddle  horses. 

"Ishmael,  you  have  refused  all  compensation  beyond  your 
traveling  expenses  for  your  services.  And  I  know,  indeed, 
they  were  of  a  nature  that  money  could  not  repay.  Yet,  I 
do  wish  to  make  you  some  more  substantial  acknowledgment 
than  empty  words  of  my  indebtdeness  to  you.  Now  there  is 
my  Arabian  courser,  Mahomet.  He  is  a  gift  worthy  of  even 
your  acceptance,  Ishmael.  He  has  not  his  equal  in  America. 
I  refused  three  thousand  dollars  for  him  before  I  went  to 
Europe.  I  will  not  lend  him  to  you,  Ishmael!  I  will  heg 
your  acceptance  of  him —there,  now,  don't  refuse !  I  shall 
never  use  him  again,  and  Claudia  cannot,  for  he  not  a  lady's 
horse,  you  know." 

"I  shall  never  ride  again,"  here  put  in  Claudia,  in  a  sorrow- 
ful voice. 

Ishmael  started  and  turned  toward  her ;  but  she  had  arisen 
from  the  table  and  withdrawn  to  the  window-seat. 

Judge  Merlin  continued  to  press  his  gift  upon  the  young 
man.  But  though  Ishmael  had  almost  a  passion  for  fine 
horses,  he  hesitated  to  accept  this  munificent  present  until 
lie  saw  that  his  refusal  would  give  the  judge  great  pain. 

Then,  with  sincere  expressions  of  gratitude,  he  frankly  ac- 
cepted it. 

The  judge  rang  a  bell  and  ordered  Mahomet  saddled  and 
brought  around  for  Mr.  Worth,  and  a  groom's  horse  for  hi3 
servant. 

Ishmael  put  on  his  riding-coat  and  took  his  hat  and  gloves. 

When  the  horses  were  announced,  Ishmael  went  and  shook 
hands  with  his  host. 

"God  bless  you,  Ishmael !  God  hless  you,  my  dear  boy,  for 
all  that  you  have  done  for  me  and  for  minel  Yea,  God  bless 
you,  and  speed  the  time  when  you  shall  be  nearer  to  me  than 
at  present!"  said  the  judge,  pressing  both  Ishmael's  hands 
before  he  dropped  them. 

Ishmael  then  crossed  the  room  to  take  leave  of  Claudia. 

She^  was  sitting  in  the  arm-chair,  within  the  recess  of  tha 
bay-window;  her  elbow  rested  on  a  little  stand  at  her  side, 
and  her  head  was  bowed  upon  her  hand;  this  was  her  usual 
tttitude  now. 

•farewell.  Lady  Vincent,"  said  Ishmael,  in  a  graven  swtjefc 
f Oioe,  as  he  stood  before  her- 


3^2  Wliicli  is  tHe  Bride? 


^— ^i 


She  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him.  Oh,  what  a  world 
of  grief,  despair  and  passionate  remorse  was  expressed  in 
those  large,  dark,  tearless  eyes! 

"Farewell,  Lady  Vincent,"  said  Ishmael,  deferentially  tak- 
ing her  hand. 

Her  fingers  closed  spasmodically  upon  his,  as  though  she 
would  have  held  him  to  her  side  forever. 

"Oh,  must  it  be  indeed  farewell,  Ishmael  ?"  she  breathed  in 
a  voice  exjiiring  with  anguish. 

"Farewell,"  he  repeated  gravely,  kindly,  reverentially  bow- 
ing low  over  the  throbbing  hand  he  held;  and  then  he  turned 
and  softly  left  the  room. 

"It  is  his  sense  of  honor !  Oh,  it  is  his  chivalric,  nay,  his 
fanatical  sense  of  honor  that  is  ruining  us !  Unless  Eee  has 
the  good  taste  and  modesty  to  release  him  voluntarily,  he  will 
sacrifice  me,  himself  and  her,  to  the  Moloch,  Honor !"  wailed 
Claudia,  as  she  dropped  her  head  upon  her  hands  in  a  grief 
too  deep  for  tears ! 

Was  she  right? 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

WHICH     IS     THE     BRIDE? 

Ishmael  galloped  along  the  road  leading  to  "The  Beacon,'* 
followed  at  a  short  distance  by  the  professor,  who  found  some 
diificulty  in  keeping  up  with  his  master. 

Ishmael's  aspect  was  not  altogether  that  of  a  happy  lover 
going  to  see  his  beloved;  for  his  countenance  was  thoughtful, 
grave  and  sad.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  with  him,  after 
the  scene  he  had  left?  His  thoughts,  his  sympathies,  his  re- 
grets were  with  Claudia,  the  earliest  friend  of  his  friendless 
childhood;  with  Claudia,  grand,  noble  and  beautiful,  even  in. 
the  wreck  of  her  happiness ;  with  Claudia,  loving  now  as  she 
had  never  loved  before. 

Yes,  his  thoughts,  his  regrets,  his  sympathies  were  with 
her.    But  where  was  his  love,  his  esteem  and  his  admiration? 

As  he  rode  on,  the  figure  of  Claudia,  in  her  woe,  became' 
lost  in  a  shadow  that  was  gradually  stealing  over  his  soul 
—one  of  those  mysterious  shadows  that  approaching  mis- 
fortunes are  said  to  cast  before  theml  la  vain  he  tried  by 
reason  to  dispel  this  gloom.  The  nearer  he  approached  "The 
Beacon,"  the  deeper  it  settled  upon  his  spirit  1 

What  could  it  mean  ?  Was  all  well  at  "The  Beacon  ?"  Was 
all  well  with  Bee? 

Reuben  Gray,  when  questioned,  had  said  that  he  had  not 
heard  from  them  for  a  week.  And  what  might  not  ha7«  hap* 
^euedio  a  week  t 


Whidi  is  tlie  Bride?  323 

St  that  thouglit  a  pang  like  death  shot  through  his  heart, 
and  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  urged  him  forward  at  his 
best  speed. 

But,  with  all  his  haste,  the  short  February  day  was  draw- 
ing to  its  close,  and  the  descending  sun  was  sinking  behind 
the  mansion-house  and  its  group  of  out-buildings  when  Ish- 
piael  rode  into  the  front  yard,  followed  closely  by  his  servant. 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  spring  from  his  liorse, 
throw  the  reins  to  the  professor,  bound  up  the  steps  to  the 
front  door  and  ring  the  bell. 

The  door  was  opened  by  Mr.  Middleton  in  person.  This 
was  an  unprecedented,  an  ominous  circumstance. 

Bee's  father  looked  very  grave  as  he  held  out  his  hand,  aay* 
ing: 

"How  do  you  do,  Ishmael?  I  am  glad  that  you  have  all 
returned  safely." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Middleton?  I  hope — ^I  hope  that  I 
find  you  all  well  ?"  said  Ishmael,  striving  to  speak  composedly. 

"Y — ^yes.  Come  into  the  library,  my  young  friend,  I  wish 
to  speak  with  you  alone  before  you  see  any  other  member  of 
tlie  family,"  said  Mr.  Middleton. 

Nearly  overwhelmed  with  his  emotions,  dreading  he  knew 
not  what,  Ishmael  followed  Mr.  Middleton  into  the  library 
imd  dropped  into  the  chair  that  gentleman  pushed  toward  him. 

"Bee — Bee!  For  heaven's  sake  tell  me?  Is  she  well ?"  he 
asked  ; 

"Y — ^yes,"  answered  Mr.  IWQddleton,  hesitatingly,  gravely— 
**Bee  is  well." 

"Good  heaven,  sir,  can  you  not  speak  plainly  ?  We  say  of 
the  sainted  dead  that  they  are  well;  that  it  is  well  with  them. 
Oh,  tell  me,  tell  me,  is  Bee  alive  and  well?"  exclaimed  the 
young  man,  as  drops  of  sweat,  forced  forth  by  his  great  sus- 
pense, started  from  his  brow. 

**Ye3,  yes  1    Bee  is  alive  and  well." 

Ishmael  dropped  his  head  upon  his  hands  and  breathed  A 
fervent : 

"Thanks  be  to  God  r 

"I  have  given  you  unintentional  alarm,  Ishmael." 

"Oh,  sir !  alarm  does  not  begin  to  express  what  I  have  8uf« 
fered.  You  have  wrung  my  heart.  But  let  that  pass,  sir. 
What  is  it  that  you  wished  to  say  to  me  ?"  said  Ishmael,  rais- 
ing his  head. 

"Take  a  glass  of  wine  first,"  said  Mr.  Middleton,  bringing 
a  decanter  and  glasses  from  a  side-table. 

"Thank  you,  sir,  I  never  touch  it.  Pray  do  not  regard  me; 
but  go  on  with  what  you  were  about  to  say." 

*1  will  then,  Ishmael.  And  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  if 
i  speak  very  plainly."  ""   .   ■ 

<  ^Speak  tW,  sir;  Bee's  father  has  a  holy  light  to 'speak 


3^4  Which  is  the  Bride? 

plainly  to  Bee's  betrothed,"  replied  Ishmael,  wondering  what 
portentous  communication  these  words  prefaced. 

"It  is  as  Bee's  father,  and  no  less  as  your  friend,  Ishmael, 
that  I  do  speak! — Ishmael,"  continued  Mr.  Middleton, 
solemnly,  "we  all  knew  your  strong,  your  very  strong  attach- 
ment to  Claudia  Il^Ierlin  before  she  became  Lady  Vincent " 

"Well,  sir  ?"  said  the  young  man  gravely. 

"We  all  knew  how  nearly  heart-broken  you  were  for  a 
considerable  time  after  her  marriage,  and  indeed  until  you 
found  consolation  and  healing  in  the  sympathy  and  aft'ectioa 
of  my  daughter  Beatrice." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Ishmael,  speaking  low,  and  bending  his 
head. 

"You  possibly  mistook  the  sisterly  love  of  the  companion 
of  your  childhood  for  that  deeper  love  that  should  bind  hus- 
band and  wife  together  for  time  and  for  eternity.  And  you 
asked  me  to  give  you  Bee,  and  I,  rashly  perhaps,  consented. 
For  who  could  foresee  the  end  ?" 

Ishmael  grew  very  pale,  but  compressed  his  lips,  and  gov- 
erned his  strong  emotions. 

Mr.  Middleton  continued: 

"Lady  Vincent  fell  into  trouble.  She  needed  the  help  of  a 
man  with  a  strong  arm,  wise  head,  and  pure  heart.  You 
were  that  man,  Ishmael.  At  her  first  cry  for  help  wafted 
across  the  Atlantic,  you  threw  up  all  your  professional  pros- 
pects, left  your  office  and  your  clients  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves, and  flew  to  her  relief.  It  was  to  your  wonderful  in- 
telligence, inspired,  no  doubt,  by  your  pure  love,  that  she 
jwed  her  deliverance  from  all  the  snares  laid  for  her  destruc- 
tion. You  have  rescued  her  and  brought  her  safely  home — 
are  you  listening,  Ishmael  f^ 

"I  am  listening,  sir,"  answered  the  young  man,  very  grave' 
ly.  By  this  time  he  had  begun  to  understand  the  drift  of 
Mr.  Middleton's  discourse,  and  had  recovered  his  composure, 
and  his  look  was  somewhat  stern. 

"Well,  then,  in  a  word — Lord  Vincent  is  dead,  Claudia  is 
free,  you  have  been  her  constant  companion  since  her  widow- 
hood. Now,  then,  Ishmael,  if  in  these  days  of  close  compan- 
ionship with  Lady  Vincent  your  love  for  Claudia  Merlin  has 
revived " 

"Mr.  Middleton,  how  can  you  speak  to  me  thus?"  inter- 
rupted Ishmael,  in  a  stern  voice,  and  with  flashing  eyes,  and 
in  very  righteous  indignation.  The  next  instant,  however, 
he  recovered  himself.  "I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  sor- 
rowfully. "I  should  not  have  spoken  so  to  the  father  of  my 
betrothed — to  my  own  father,  I  might  almost  say.  I  beg 
your  pardon  sincerely." 

"Compose  yourself,  Ishmael,  and  listen  to  me.  T  speak  xha 
words  of  truth  and  sobernessi  and  you  must  hear  them.   I  sa^ 


WHicli  is  the  Bride?  325 

if  in  these  days  of  intimate  association  witli  Lady  Vincent 
your  love  for  Claudia  Merlin  has  revived,  you  must>  break 
with  Bee." 

"Mr.  Middleton!!" 

"Gently,  Ishmael !  If  this  is  so,  it  cannot  be  helped !  And 
none  of  us  blame  you.  The  human  heart  should  be  free.  Nay, 
it  will  be  free.     So- 


"But,  Mr.  Middleton '" 

"Gently,  gently,  Ishmael,  I  beg;  hear  me  out.  I  know 
what  you  were  about  to  say.  You  were  about  to  talk  of  your 
plighted  word,  of  fidelity,  and  of  honor.  But  I  think,  Ish- 
mael, that,  if  it  is  as  I  suppose,  there  would  be  more  honor  in 
frankly  stating  the  case  to  Bee,  and  asking  for  the  release 
that  she  would  surely  give  you,  than  there  would  be  in  marry- 
ing her  while  you  love  another.  You  should  not  offer  her  a 
divided  love.    Bee  is  worthy  of  a  whole  heart." 

"Do  I  not  know  it?"  broke  forth  Ishmael.  "Oh,  do  I  not 
know  it  ?  And  do  I  not  give  her  my  whole,  unwavering,  undi- 
vided heart?  Mr.  Middleton,  look  at  me!"  said  the  young 
man,  fixing  his  truthful,  earnest,  eloquent  eyes  upon  that  gen- 
tleman's face — "Look  at  me !  It  is  true  that  I  once  cherished 
a  boyish  passion  for  Lady  Vincent — unreasoning,  ardent,  ve- 
hement as  such  boyish  passions  are  apt  to  be.  But,  dr,  her 
marriage  with  Lord  Vincent  killed  that  passion  quite.  It 
was  dead  and  buried,  without  the  possibility  of  resurrection. 
It  was  impossible,  utterly  impossible,  for  me  to  love  another 
man's  wife.  Every  honorable  principle,  every  delicate  instinct 
of  my  nature  forbade  it.  On  her  marriage  day  my  boyish 
flame  burned  to  ashes  And,  sir,  such  ashes  as  are  never  re- 
kindled again !  Never,  under  any  circimastances !  It  is  true 
that  I  have  felt  the  deepest  sympathy  for  Lady  Vincent  in  her 
sorrows;  but  not  more,  sir,  than  it  is  my  natvire  to  feel  for 
any  suffering  woman !  not  more,  sir,  I  assure  you,  than  I  felt 
for  that  poor,  little  middle-aged  widow  who  was  my  first 
client;  not  more  scarcely  so  much,  as  I  felt  for  Lady  Hurst- 
monceux  in  her  desertion.  Oh,  sir,  the  love  that  I  gave  to 
Bee  is  not  the  transient  passion  of  a  boy,  it  is  the  steadfast 
affection  of  a  man.  And  since  the  blessed  day  of  our  betrothal 
my  heart  has  known  no  shadow  of  turning  from  its  fidelity  to 
hex.    Sir,  do  you  believe  me  V 

"I  do!  I  do,  Ishmael!  And  I  beg  you  to  forgive  me  for 
ray  doubts  of  you." 

"For  myself,  I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  But,  sir,  I  hope,  I 
trust,  that  you  have  not  disturbed  Bee  with  these  doubts." 

"Well,  Ishmael,  you  know,  I  felt  it  my  duty  gradually  to 
prepare  her  mind  for  the  shock  that  she  might  have  received 
had  those  old  coals  of  yours  been  rekindled. 

"Then,  heaven  forgive  you,  Mr.  Middleton  I  Where  is 
ahel    Can  X  see  her  now r 


336 


Wliicli  is  tlie  Bride? 


"Of  course  you  can,  Ishmael.  In  any  case,  you  should 
Bave  seen  her  once  more.  If  you  had  been  going  to  break 
with  her,  you  would  have  had  to  see  her,  to  ask  from  her  own 
lips  your  release." 

"Where  is  she — where?" 

"In  the  drawing-room — waiting,  like  the  good  girl  that  she 
is,  to  give  you  your  freedom,  should  you  desire  it  of  her." 

"I  say — God  forgive  you,  Mr.  Middleton!"  said  Ishmael, 
starting  oif. 

Suddenly  he  stopped;  he  was  very  much  agitated,  and  he 
did  not  wish  to  break  in  upon  Bee  in  that  disturbed  state. 
He  poured  out  a  large  glass  of  water  and  drank  it  off;  stood 
still  a  minute  to  recover  his  composure,  and  then  went  quietly 
to  the  drawing-room.    Very  softly  he  opened  the  door. 

There  she  was !  Ah,  it  seemed  ages  since  he  had  seen  her 
last !  And  now  he  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  her,  before 
he  advanced  into  the  room. 

She  was  standing  at  the  west  window,  apparently  lookinjf 
out  at  the  wintry,  red  sunset.  Although  it  was  afternoon, 
she  still  wore  a  long,  flowing,  white  merino  morning  dress, 
and  her  bright  golden  brown  hair  was  unwound,  hanging 
loose  upon  her  shoulders.  The  beams  of  the  setting  sun, 
streaming  in  full  upon  her,  illumined  the  outlines  of  her 
beautiful  head  and  graceful  form.  A  lovely  picture  she  made 
as  she  stood  there  like  some  fair  spirit. 

Ishmael  advanced  toward  her,  stood  behind  her. 

"Bee!  dear,  dear  Bee!"  he  said,  putting  his  arms  around 
her. 

She  turned  in  a  moment,  exclaiming : 

"Dear  Ishmael!  dearest  brother!"  and  was  caught  to  his 
bosom.  She  dropped  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  and  bui-st 
into  a  flood  of  tears.  She  wept  long  and  convulsively.  And 
he  held  her  closely  to  his  heart,  and  soothed  her  with  loving 
words. 

It  seemed  she  did  not  take  in  the  full  purport  of  those 
words,  for  presently  she  ceased  weeping,  gently  disengaged 
herself  from  his  embrace,  and  sat  down  upon  the  corner  of  the 
sofa,  with  her  elbow  resting  on  its  arm,  and  her  head  leaning 
on  her  hand.  And  then,  as  he  looked  at  her,  Ishmael  saw  for 
the  fii'st  time  how  changed,  how  sadly  changed  she  was. 

Bee's  face  had  always  been  fair,  clear  and  delicate,  but 
now  it  was  so  white,  wan  and  shadowy,  that  her  sweet  blue 
eyes  seemed  preternaturally  large,  bright  and  hollow.  She 
began  to  speak,  but  with  an  effort  that  was  very  perceptible: 

*T)ear  Ishmael,  dearest  and  ever  dearest  brother,  I  did  not 
mean  to  weep  so ;  it  was  very  foolish ;  but  then  you  know  we 
girls  wee^  for  almost  anything,  or  nothing;  so  you—  ■-"^ 

Her  voice  sank  into  silence. 

"My  darling,  why  should  you  weep  at  all  ?  and  why  do  you 


Whicli  is  tlie  Bride?  327 

jail  me  troth  sr?"  whispered  Islimael,  sitting  down  beside  her, 
aad  drawing  her  toward  him. 

But  again  she  gently  withdrew  herself  from  him,  and  look- 
ing into  his  face  with  her  clear  eyes  and  sweet  smile,  she  said : 

"Why?  Because,  dear  Ishmael,  though  we  shall  never 
meet  again  after  to-day — though  it  would  not  be  right  that 
we  should — yet  I  shall  always  hold  you  as  the  dearest  among 
my  brothers.  Oh,  did  you  think — did  you  think  it  could  be 
otherwise?  Did  you  think  this — dispensation  could  turn  me 
against  you  ?  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  Ishmael,  it  could  not.  Is  othing 
that  you  could  do  could  turn  me  against  you,  because  you 
would  do  no  wrong.  You  have  not  done  wrong  now,  dear ;  do 
not  imagine  that  any  of  us  think  so.  We  do  not  presume  to 
blame  you — none  of  us ;  not  my  father,  not  my  mother — least 

of  all  myself.     It  was "    Again  her  sinking  voice  dropped 

into  silence. 

"Bee — darling,  darling  Bee — you  do  not  know  what  you 
are  talking  about.  I  love  you.  Bee!  I  love  you!"  said  Ish- 
mael, earnestly,  again  trying  to  draw  her  to  his  heart. 

But  again  she  gently  prevented  him,  as  with  a  wan  emile 
and  in  a  low  voice  she  ansv/ered : 

"I  know  you  do,  dear ;  I  never  doubted  that  you  did.  \  ou 
always  loved  me  as  if  I  were  your  o"T?n  little  sister.  But  not 
as  you  loved  her,  Islunael." 

"Bee " 

''Hush,  dear!  Let  me  rp'^ak  while  I  have  strength  to  do 
so.  She  was  your  first  love,  Ishmael;  your  first  friend,  you 
remember.  With  all  her  faults — and  they  are  but  as  the  spots 
upon  the  sun — she  is  a  glorious  creature,  and  worthy  of  you. 
I  always  knew  that  I  was  not  to  be  compared  to  her." 

"No,  heaven  knows  that  you  are  not!"  breathed  Ishmael, 
iuaudibly,  as  he  watched  Bee. 

"All  your  friends,  Islnnael — all  who  love  you  and  who  are 
interested  in  your  welfare — if  they  could  influence  your 
choice,  would  direct  it  to  her,  rather  than  to  me.  You  are 
making  your  name  illustrious;  you  will  some  time  attain  a 
high  station  in  society.  And  who  is  there  so  worthy  to  bear 
your  name  and  share  your  station  as  that  queenly  woman?" 

"Bee !  Bee !  you  almost  bi'eak  my  heart.  I  tell  you  I  love 
you,  E«el    llove  you P' 

^  "I  know  you  do,  dear ;  I  have  said  that  you  do !  and  you 
are  distressed  about  me;  but  do  not  be  so,  dear!  Indeed,  I 
shall  be  very  well ;  I  shall  have  work  to  occupy  me,  and  duties 
to  interest  me;  indeed  I  shall  be  happy,  Ishmael;  indeed  I 
shall;  and  I  shall  always  love  you,  as  a  little  sister  loves  her 
dearest  brother;  so  take  your  trothplight  back  again,  dear, 
and  with  it  my  prayers  for  your  happiness,"  said  Bee,  be- 
ginning to  draw  the  engagement  ring  from  her  finger. 

"iJeel  Bee  I  what  ar^^ou  doing?    You  will  not  listen  tq 


328 


WhicH  is  tlie  Bride? 


me  I  I  love  you.  Bee!  I  love  you!  hear  me!  There  is  no 
woman  in  the  world  can  rival  you  for  an  instant  in  my  heart ! 
no,  not  one !  and  there  has  never  been  one  I  That  boyish  pas- 
sion I  once  cherished  for  another,  and  that  haunts  your  im- 
agination so  fatally,  was  but  as  a  blaze  of  straws  that  quickly 
burned  out!  It  was  a  fever  common  to  boyhood.  Few  men, 
arrived  at  years  of  discretion.  Bee,  would  like  to  marry  their 
first  follies — for  it  is  a  misnomer  to  call  them  first  loves; — 
yes,  very  few  men  would  like  to  do  so,  Bee,  least  of  all  would 
I.  What  I  give  you.  Bee,  is  a  constant,  steadfast  love,  a  love 
for  time  and  for  eternity.  Oh,  my  dearest,  hear  me,  and  be- 
lieve me!"  he  said,  speaking  fervently,  earnestly,  forcibly. 

She  had  started  and  caught  her  breath;  and  now  she  was 
looking  and  listening,  as  though  she  doubted  the  evidence  of 
her  own  eyes  and  ears. 

He  had  taken  her  hand  and  was  resetting  the  ring  more 
firmly  on  the  finger,  from  which,  indeed,  she  had  not  quite 
withdrawn  it. 

"Do  you  believe  me  now,  dear  Bee  ?"  he  softly  inquired. 

"Believe  you?  Why,  Islmaael,  I  never  doubted  your  word 
in  all  my  life.  But — but  I  cannot  realize  it.  I  cannot  bring 
it  home  to  my  heart  yet.  How  is  it  possible  it  should  be  true  ? 
How  is  it  possible  you  should  choose  me,  when  you  might 
marry  her?"  said  Bee,  with  large,  v/ondering  eyes. 

"How  is  it  possible,  my  darling  one,  that  you  should  not 
know  how  much  more  lovely  you  are  than  any  other  girl,  or 
woman,  I  have  ever  seen — except  one." 

"\Except  one,  Islmaael  ?"  she  inquired,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"Except  the  Countess  of  Hurstmonceaux,  who  is  almost  as 
good  and  as  beautiful  as  you.  Bee,  my  darling,  are  you  sat- 
isfied now  ?" 

"Oh,  Ishmael,  I  cannot  realize  it.  I  have  been  schooling 
my  heart  so  long,  so  long,  to  resign  you !" 

"So  long  ?    How  long,  my  dearest  ?" 

"Oh,  ever  since  we  heard  that  she  was  free.  And  that  has 
been — let  me  see — why,  indeed,  it  has  been  but  a  week !  But 
oh,  Ishmael,  it  seems  to  me  that  years  and  years  have  passed 
since  my  father  told  me  to  prepare  for  a  disappointment !" 

"Heaven  pardon  him!  I  scarcely  can!"  said  Ishmael  to 
himself. 

"But  is  it  indeed  true  ?  Do  you  really  love  me  best  of  all  ? 
And  can  you  be  satisfied  with  me,  with  me?" 

"  'Satisfied'  with  you,  dearest  ?  Well,  I  suppose  that  is  the 
best  word  after  all!  Yes,  dearest,  yes,  perfectly,  eternally 
satisfied  with  you.  Bee!"  he  said,  drawing  her  to  his  heart. 
And  this  time  she  did  not  withdraw  herself  from  his  embrace; 
but,  with  a  soft  sob  of  joy,  she  dropped  her  head  upon  his 
bosom. 

"You  believe  my  love  now,. Bee?"  ho  stooped  and  whispered. 


Which  is  the  Bride?  329 

"Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes,  Ishmael !  and  I  am  so  happy !"  she  mur- 
mured. 

"Now  then  listen  to  me,  dearest,  for  I  have  something  to 
say  to  you.  Do  you  remember,  love,  that  day  you  came  to 
me  in  the  arbor?  I  was  sleeping  the  heavy  sleep  of  inebria- 
tion ;  and  you  wept  over  me  and  veiled  my  humbled  head  with 
your  own  dear  handkerchief,  and  glided  away  as  softly  as 
you  came !  Do  you  remember,  dear,  that  night  you  sat  up  at 
your  window,  watching  and  waiting  to  let  me  in  with  your 
own  dear  hand,  that  none  should  witness  my  humiliation? 
Bee!  apparently  that  was  a  compassionate  sister  trying  to 
save  from  obloquy  an  erring  brother.  But  really.  Bee,  as  the 
truth  stands  in  the  spiritual  world,  it  is  this:  A  sinner  was 
sleeping  upon  the  brink  of  one  of  the  foulest  gulfs  in  the 
depths  of  perdition !  a  single  turn  in  his  sleep  and  he  would 
have  been  eternally  lost!  But  an  angel  came  from  heaven, 
and  with  her  gentle  hand  softly  aroused  him  and  drew  him 
out  of  danger.  Bee !  I  was  that  sinner  on  the  brink  of  eternal 
woe,  and  you  that  angel  from  heaven  who  saved  me!  Bee! 
from  that  day  I  knew  that  God  had  sent  you  to  be  my  guar- 
dian spirit  through  this  world.  And  when  I  forget  that  day. 
Bee,  may  the  Lord  forget  me.  And  when  I  cease  to  adore 
you  for  it.  Bee,  may  the  Lord  cease  to  love  me.  But  as  love 
of  heaven  is  sure.  Bee,  so  is  my  love  for  you.  And  both  are 
eternal.  Oh,  love!  bride!  wife!  hear  me!  believe  me!  love 
me!" 

"Oh,  I  do,  I  do,  Ishmael!  And  I  am  so  happy!  And  the 
very  spring  of  my  happiness  is  in  the  thought  that  after  all 
I  content  you." 

"With  an  infinite  content,  Bee!" 

"And  now  let  us  go  to  my  dear  mother;  she  will  be  so  glad; 
she  loves  you  so  much,  you  know,  Ishmael !"  said  Bee,  gently 
releasing  herself — and  looking  up,  her  fair  face  now  rosy, 
with  delicate  bloom  and  the  tones  of  her  voice  trilling  with 
subdued  joy. 

Ishmael  arose  and  gave  her  his  arm,  and  they  passed  out 
of  the  drawing-room  and  entered  the  morning-room,  where 
Mrs.  Middleton  sat  among  her  younger  children. 

"Mamma,"  said  Bee,  "we  were  none  of  us  right;  here  is 
Ishmael  to  speak  for  himself." 

"I  know  it,  dear,  your  papa  has  just  been  in  here,  and  told 
me  all  about  it.  How  do  you  do,  Ishmael?  Welcome  home, 
my  son!"  said  Mrs.  Middleton,  rising  and  holding  out  her 
arms. 

Ishmael  warmly  embraced  Bee's  mother. 

But  by  this  time  the  children  had  gathered  around  him, 
clamorous  for  recognition.  All  children  were  very  fond  of 
Ishmael. 

Whil©  h^  was  shaking  hands  with  the  boys,  kissing  the 


330  Conclusion. 

little  girls,  and  lifting  the  youngest  up  in  his  arms,  Mr.  Mid- 
dleton  came  in. 

And  the  evening  passed  happily. 

Ishmael  remained  one  happy  week  with  Bee,  and  then 
leaving  her,  recovered,  blooming  and  happy,  he  returned  to 
Washington,  where  he  was  affectionately  welcomed  by  the 
two  fair  and  gentle  old  ladies,  who  had  put  his  rooms  in  holi- 
day order  to  receive  him. 

He  returned  in  good  time  for  the  opening  of  the  spring 
term  of  the  circuit  court,  anfi  soon  found  himself  surrounded 
with  clients,  and  the  business  of  his  office  prospered  greatly. 


CHAPTER  XLni. 

CONOLUSIOK. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  the  following  year  a  great  distinc- 
tion awaited  Ishmael  "Worth.  Young  as  he  then  was  Lo  had 
won  the  admiration  and  confidence  of  the  greatest  states- 
men and  politicians  of  the  day.  And  there  were  statesmen 
as  well  as  politicians  then.  "There  were  giants  in  those  days." 
And  from  among  all  the  profound  lawyers  and  learned  judges 
of  the  country  young  Ishmael  Worth  was  selected  by  our  Gov- 
ernment as  their  especial  ambassador  to  the  Court  of  France, 
to  settle  with  the  French  ministry  some  knotty  point  of  in- 
ternational law  about  which  the  two  countries  were  in  danger 
of  going  to  war. 

Ishmael  was  to  sail  in  May.  His  marriage  with  Bee  had 
been  deferred  upon  various  pretexts  by  her  family;  for  not 
very  willingly  do  parents  part  with  such  a  daughter  as  Bee, 
even  to  a  husband  so  well  beloved  and  highly  esteemed  as 
Ishmael.  And  Ishmael  and  Bee  had  reluctantly,  but  duti- 
fully, submitted  to  their  wishes. 

But  not  again  would  Ishmael  cross  the  Atlantic  without 
Bee.  So,  on  the  first  of  May  they  were  very  quietly  mar- 
ried in  the  parish  church  that  the  family  attended.  Judge 
Merlin  and  his  daughter  were,  of  course,  invited  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  ceremony;  but  both  sent  excuses,  with  best  wishes 
for  the  happiness  of  the  young  pair.  Not  yet  could  Claudia 
look  calmly  on  the  marriage  of  Ishmael  and  Bee. 

On  the  seventh  of  May,  Ishmael  and  his  bride  sailed  from 
New  York  to  Havre,  for  Paris.  There  he  satisfactorily 
concluded  the  important  business  upon  which  he  had  been 
sent.  And  it  is  supposed  to  have  been  owing  to  his  wise 
diplomacy  alone,  under  Divine  Providence,  that  a  war  was 
averted,  and  the  disputed  question  settled  upon  an  amica- 
ble and  permanent  basis.  Having  thus  performed  his  mis- 
fian,  he  d^votftd  binasplf  exclusively  to  his  bride.    She  was 


Conclusion.  331 

presented  at  the  French  court,  where  her  beauty,  resplendent 
now  with  perfect  love  and  joy,  made  a  great  sensation,  even 
in  that  court  of  beauties.  She  went  to  some  of  the  most 
select  and  exclusive  of  the  ambassadors'  balls,  and  everywhere, 
without  seeking  or  desiring  such  distinction,  she  became  the 
cynosure  of  all  eyes.  When  the  season  was  over  in  Paris  they 
made  the  tour  of  Europe,  seeing  the  best  that  was  to  be  seen, 
stopping  at  all  the  principal  capitals,  and  through  our  min- 
isters, entering  into  all  the  court  circles.  And  everywhere 
the  handsome  person,  courtly  address,  and  brilliant  intellect 
of  Ishmael,  and  the  beauty,  grace,  and  amiability  of  Bee, 
inspired  admiration  and  respect.  They  came  last  to  Eng- 
land. In  London  they  were  the  guests  of  our  minister. 
Here  also  Bee  was  presented  at  court,  where,  as  elsewhere, 
her  rare  loveliness  was  the  theme  of  every  tongue. 

Meanwhile,  Claudia  living  in  widowhood  and  seclusion, 
learned  all  of  Bee's  transatlantic  triumphs  through  the 
"court-circulars"  and  "fashionable  intelligence"  of  the 
English  papers;  and  through  the  gossiping  foreign  letter 
writers  of  the  New  York  journals;  all  of  which  in  a  morbid 
curiosity  she  took,  and  in  self -tormenting  spirit  studied.  In 
what  bitterness  of  soul,  she  read  of  all  these  triumphs  1  This 
was  exactly  what  she  had  marked  out  for  herself,  when  she 
sold  her  soul  to  the  fiend,  in  becoming  the  wife  of  Lord  Vin- 
cent! And  how  the  fiend  had  cheated  her!  Here  she  was, 
at  an  obscure  country  house,  wearing  out  the  days  of  her 
youth  in  hopeless  widowhood  and  loneliness !  This  splendid 
career  of  Bee  was  the  very  thing  to  attain  which  she  had  sac- 
rificed the  struggling  young  lawyer,  and  taken  the  noble  vis- 
count. And  now  it  was  that  very  young  lawyer  who  intro- 
duced his  bride  to  all  these  triumphs ;  while  that  very  viscount 
had  left  her  to  a  widowhood  of  obscurity  and  reproach!  In 
eagerly,  recklessly,  sinfully  snatching  at  these  social  honors 
she  had  lost  them  all!  While  Bee,  without  seeking  or  desir- 
ing them,  by  simply  walking  forward  in  her  path  of  love  and 
duty,  had  found  them  in  her  way !  But  for  her  own  wicked 
pride  and  mental  short-sightedness,  she  might  be  occupying 
that  very  station,  now,  so  gracefully  adorned  by  Bee. 

What  a  lesson  it  was!  Claudia  bowed  her  haughty  head 
and  took  it  well  to  heart.  "It  is  bitter !  it  is  bitter  1  but  it  ia 
just,  and  I  accept  it  I  I  will  learn  of  it  I  I  cannot  be  happy; 
but  I  can  be  dutiful !  I  have  but  my  father  left  iu  this  world  I 
I  wiU  devote  myadf  to  him  and  to  God  I"  she  said,  and  she 
kept  her  wurd. 

There  is  one  incident  in  the  travels  of  Ishmael  and  Bee 
that  should  be  recorded  here,  since  it  toonoems  a  lady  (?) 
that  figured  rather  conspicuously  in  this  history.  The  young 
pair  were  at  Cameron  Ccurt,  on  a  visit  to  the  Oountera  cnf 
Hiirstmonoeux  and  Mr.  Brudenell,  whom  they  found  «ajoyii^ 


33^  Conclusion. 

much  ealm  domestic  happiness.  Making  Cameron  Court 
their  headquarters,  Ishmael  and  Bee  went  on  many  excur- 
sions through  the  country  and  visited  many  interesting 
places.  Among  the  rest,  they  inspected  the  model  Reform- 
atory Female  Prison  at  Ballmornoclc  While  they  were  going 
through  one  of  the  work-rooms.  Bee  suddenly  pressed  her 
husband's  arm  and  whispered : 

"Ishmael,  dear,  observe  that  poor  young  woman  sitting 
there  binding  shoes!  How  pretty  and  lady-like  she  seems, 
to  be  in  such  a  place  as  this,  poor  thing!" 

Ishmael  looked  as  desired;  and  at  the  same  moment  the 
female  prisoner  raised  her  head;  and  their  eyes  met. 

"Come  away,  Bee,  my  darling,"  said  Ishmael,  suddenly 
turning  his  wife  around  and  leading  her  from  the  room. 

"She  really  seemed  to  know  you,  Ishmael,"  said  Bee,  as 
they  left  the  prison. 

"She  did,  love;  it  was  Mrs.  Dugald." 

Bee's  blue  eyes  opened  wide,  in  wonder  and  sorrow,  and 
she  walked  on  in  silence  and  in  thought. 

Yes,  the  female  prisoner,  in  the  coarse  gray  woolen  gown 
and  close  white  linen  cap,  who  sat  on  the  wooden  bencli  bind- 
ing shoes,  was  Katie's  "whited  sepulchre."  She  had  been 
sent  j&rst  to  the  "Bridewell;"  where  for  a  few  days  she  had 
been  very  violent  and  ungovernable,  but  she  soon  learned  that 
her  best  interests  lay  in  submission;  and  for  months  after- 
ward she  behaved  so  well  that  at  length  she  was  sent  to  the 
milder  'Reformatory"  to  work  out  her  ten  years  of  penal 
servitude.  Here  she  was  supplied  with  food,  clothing  and 
shelter — all  of  a  good,  coarse,  substantial  sort.  But  she 
was  compelled  to  work  very  steadily  all  the  week,  and  to 
hear  two  good  sermons  on  Sunday.  And  as  she  never  in  her 
life  before  enjoyed  such  excellent  moral  training  as  this,  let 
us  hope  that  the  "Reformatory"  really  reformed  her. 

Ishmael  and  Bee  returned  home  in  the  early  autumn. 
Almost  immediately  upon  his  arrival  in  Washington,  Ish- 
mael was  made  District  Attorney.  The  emoluments  of  this 
office,  added  to  the  income  from  his  private  practice,  brought 
him  in  a  revenue  that  justified  him  in  taking  an  elegant  little 
suburban  villa,  situated  within  its  own  beautiful  grounds 
and  within  easy  distance  from  his  office.  Here  he  lived  with 
Bee,  as  happy,  and  making  her  as  happy,  as  they  both  de- 
served to  be. 

It  was  in  the  third  winter  ci  Claudia's  widowhood  that 
the  health  of  her  father  began  to  fail.  A  warmer  climate 
was  recommended  to  him  as  the  only  condition  of  his  pro- 
longed life.  He  went  to  Cuba,  attended  by  Claudia,  now 
his  devoted  nurse.  In  th.it  more  genial  atmosphere  his  health 
improved  so  much  that  he  rrten^d  moflprjjtely  into  the  so- 
ciety of  the  capital,  and  reiM^wpf)  some  of  his  old  ac<}uaiat* 


Conclusion.  333 

Rnces.  He  foimd  that  Philip  Tourneysee  had  succeeded  at 
last  in  winning  the  heart  of  the  pretty  Creole  widow,  Senora 
Donna  Eleanora  Pacheco,  to  whom  she  had  been  married  a 
year.  He  met  again  that  magnificent  old  grandee  of  Castile, 
Senor  Don  Filipo  Martinez,  Marquis  de  la  Santa  Espirito, 
who  at  first  sight  became  an  ardent  admirer  of  Claudia.  And 
the  more  the  Castilian  nobleman  saw  of  this  pale,  pensive 
beauty,  the  more  he  admired  her;  and  the  more  he  observed 
her  devotion  to  her  father,  the  moj-e  he  esteemed  her.  At 
length  he  formally  proposed  for  her  and  was  accepted.  And 
at  about  the  same  time  the  marquis  received  the  high  official 
appointment  he  had  been  so  long  expecting :  Claudia,  in  mar- 
rying him,  became  the  wife  of  the  Captain  General  of  Cuba, 
and  the  first  lady  on  the  island.  But,  mark  you !  she  had  not 
sought  nor  expected  this  distinction.  She  simply  found  it  in 
the  performance  of  her  duties.  And  if  she  did  not  love  her 
stately  husband  with  the  ardor  of  her  youth,  she  admired  and 
revered  him.  In  his  private  life  she  made  him  a  good  wife; 
in  his  public  career  an  intelligent  covmsellor;  in  everything 
a  faithful  companion.  Judge  Merlin  spent  all  his  winters 
with  them  in  Havana;  and  all  his  summers  at  Tanglewood, 
taken  care  of  by  Katie. 

A  few  words  about  the  other  characters  of  our  stoiy. 

Old  Mrs.  Brudenell  and  her  daughters  vegetated  on  at 
Brudenell  Hall,  in  a  monotony  that  was  broken  by  only  three 
incidents  in  as  many  years.  The  first  was  the  death  of  poor 
Eleanor,  whose  worthless  husband  had  died  of  excess  some 
months  before;  the  second  incident  was  the  marriage  of 
Elizabeth  Brudenell  to  the  old  pastor  of  her  parish,  who  re- 
pented of  his  celibacy  because  he  had  become  infirm,  and  took 
a  wife  because  he  required  a  nurse;  and  the  third  was  the 
visit  of  the  Countess  Hurstmonceiix  and  Mr.  Brudenell,  who 
came  and  spent  a  few  months  among  their  friends  in  Amer- 
ica, and  then  retvirned  to  their  delightful  home  in  Scotland. 

The  Middletons  continued  to  live  at  "The  Beacon."  But 
every  winter  they  spent  a  month  at  "The  Bee-Hive,"  which 
•was  the  name  of  the  Worths'  villa;  and  every  summer  Ish- 
mael,  Bee  and  their  lovely  little  daughter,  Nora,  passed  a  few 
weeks  amid  the  invigorating  sea-breezes  at  "The  Beacon." 

The  professor  lived  with  Ishmael,  in  the  enjoyment  of  a 
vigorous  and  happy  old  age. 

Reuben  and  Hannah  Gray  continued  to  reside  at  "Wood- 
side,  cultivating  the  Tanglewood  estate  and  bringing  up  thgir 
two  children. 

Alfred  Burghe  was  cashiered  for  "conduct  unworthy  of 
an  officer  and  a  gentleman,"  as  the  charge  against  him  set 
forth;  and  he  and  his  brother  have  passed  into  forgetfulness. 

Sally  and  Jim  were  united*  of  course,  and  lived  as  servants 


334  Conclusion. 

Bt  Tanglewood,  where  old  Katie,  as  housekeeper,  reigned  su* 
preme. 

What  else? 

Ishmael  loved,  prayed  and  worked — worked  more  than  ever, 
for  he  knew  that  though  it  was  hard  to  win,  it  was  harder 
to  secure  fame.  He  weoit  on  from  success  to  success.  He 
became  illustrious. 


THE  END. 


W«  are  the  Sole  Publishers  of  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox^a  Boots 

The  Poetical  and  Prose  Works  of 

ELLA    WHEELER    WILCOX 

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MAURINE 

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ine  of  these  poems  pulsates  with  life  and  throbs  with  emotion. 

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ature."— Western  Bookseller. 

"Mrs.  Wilcox  takes  her  raptures  with  a  full  heart,  revel- 
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hopefully.  Skeptic  as  she  is  of  all  formal  creeds,  she  does 
not  become  cynical  or  pessimistic,  but  makes  a  glad  religion 
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POEMS  OF  PflSSlON. 

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of  passion.  To  her  the  human  heart  seems  to  have  revealed 
Its  mysteries,  for  she  has  the  power  to  picture  love  in  all  Its 
moocis  and  variations  as  no  other  has  done  since  Byron. 

"Only  a  woman  of  genius  could  produce  such  a  remark* 
able  -Viox^."— Illustrated  London  News. 

Beside  many  others,  there  are  some  fifty  poems  which 
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Record. 

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BCAUTIFULLY PRODUCED  AND  CHARMmLY EMBELLISHED  EDITIOM 

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tVERY-DAY  THOUGHTS— In  Prose 
and  Verse. 

Her  'atest.  largest  and  greatest  prose  work.  This  brilliant 
work  consists  of  a  series  of  forceful,  logical  and  fascinating 
talks"  to  every  member  of  the  household,  in  which  tlie 
author  fearlessly,  but  with  delicacy,  discusses  every-day  sub- 
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peace  and  safety  of  the  home.  "Evtru-dau  Thoughts"  is  not  a 
mere  book  of  advice,  neither  does  it  attempt  to  preach,  but  it 
contains  more  good  counsel  and  wholesome  moral  lessons 
than  are  to  be  found  in  the  average  sermon. 

"These  thoughts,  lofty  and  uplifting,  are  stated  with  viril- 
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In  this  volume  will  widen  the  circle  of  her  admirers."— JiocAes' 
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brief,  a  short  and  vigorous  disscrtatloo  oo  rooral  conduct  and  tha 
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KINGDOM  OF  LOVE,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

h  magntftcent  collection  of  poems  suitable  for  recltathiis  andreaih 
luas,  true  to  the  very  best  there  Is  In  human  nature. 

In  the  preface  to  this  collection,  the  author  says:  "I  am 
constantly  urged  by  readers  and  impersonators  to  furnish 
them  with  verses  for  recitation.  In  response  to  this  ever- 
Increasing  demand,  I  haVe  selected  for  this  volume  the  poems 
which  seem  suitable  for  such  a  purpose.  In  making  my  col- 
lection of  them  I  have  been  obliged  to  use,  not  those  which 
are  among  my  best  efforts  in  a  literary  or  artistic  sense,  but 
those  which  contain  the  best  dramatic  possibilities  for  profes- 
sionals." 

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ularity seems  to  grow  with  each  succeeding  ye&r."— American 
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AN  AMBITIOUS  MAN~Prose. 

A  realistic  novel  of  the  modern  school  of  fiction.  Although 
the  plot  borders  on  the  sensational,  the  motive  of  the  story  is 
a  good  one.  It  teaches  that  hereditary  tendencies  can  bo 
overcome;  that  one  can  conquer  passion  and  impulse  by  the 
use  of  the  divine  inheritance  of  Will,  and  compel  public  re- 
spect by  lofty  ideals;  in  other  words,  that  one  may  rise  on  the 
'stepping-stones  of  a  dead  self  to  higher  things."  Mrs.  Wilcox 
is  a  successful  novel-writer  as  well  as  a  poet,  and  this  story  is 
another  evidence  of  her  wide  range  of  thought.  "In  *An 
Ambitious  Man'  the  central  figure  is  a  woman,  who  becomes 
chastened  through  suffering  and  purified  through  sin." 

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Psesentation  Edition,  green  Silk  doth 91-00 


AN  ERRING  WOMAN'S  LOVE.^ 

There  is  always  a  fascination  in  Mrs.  Wilcox's  verse,  but 

}n  these  beautiful  examples  of  her  genius  she  shows  a  wonder* 
ul  knowledge  of  the  hunian  heart. 

"Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox  has  impressed  many  thousands  of 
people  with  the  extreme  beauty  of  her  philosophy  and  tho 
exceeding;  usefulness  of  her  point  of  v'\eyi."— Boston  Globe. 

"Mrs.  \Vilcox  stands  at  the  head  of  feminine  writers,  and 
her  verses  and  essays  are  more  widely  copied  and  read  than 
those  of  any  other  American  literary  woman."— New  York 
World.  "Power  and  pathos  characterize  this  magnificent 
poem.  A  deep  understanding  of  life  and  an  intense  sympathy 
are  beautifully  expressed."— CAtcaft?  Tribune. 

Eresentation  Edition.  12mo.  light  brown  cloth $1.00 
>e  Luxe  Edition,  white  vellum,  eold  top 1.60 

MEN,  WOMEN  AND  EMOTIONS. 

A  skilful  analysis  of  social  habits,  customs  and  follies.  A 
sommon-sense  view  of  life  from  its  varied  standpoints... .full 
of  sage  advice. 

"These  essays  tend  to  meet  difficulties  that  arise  in  almost 

every  life Full  of  sound  and  helpful  admonition,  and  is 

sure  to  assist  in  smoothing  the  rough  ways  of  life  wherever  it 
be  read  and  hee(led."~Pittsburg  Times. 

12mo.  heavy  enameled  paper S0.6O 

f  reseatation  Edition,  dark  brown  cloth 1.00 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  LAND  OF  NOD. 

A  collection  of  poems,  songs,  stories,  and  allegories  dealine 
vrith  child  life.  The  work  is  profusely  illustrated  with  daintir 
line  engravings  and  photographs  from  life. 

"The  delight  of  the  nursery;  the  foremost  baby's  book  iiL 
the  world."— A''.  O.  Picayune. 
Quarto,  sage  green  cloto (l.OO 

AROUND  THE  YEAR  WITH 
ELLA  WHEELER  WILCOX 

A  Birthday  Book  Compiled  from  th* 
Poetical  and  Prose  Writings  of 
Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox 

The  many  admirers  of  Mrs.  Wilcox  will  welcome  this  voF- 
sme  with  genuine  enthusiasm.  It  epitomizes  her  inspirinc 
optimistic  philosophy  with  an  apposite  Quotation  for  every 
day  in  the  circling  year. 

The  book  is  a  small  quarto  in  size,  beautifully  printed  on 
excellent  paper  with  red-line  borders,  and  handsomely  bound 
in  cloth,  with  exquisite  half-tone  illustrations  prefacing  eact> 
mouth,  and  with  author's  portrait. 

Presentation  Edition,  olive  green  cloth $1.00 

De  Luxe  Edition,  white  vellum,  gold  top.,..  4^.,... 1.60 

Autograph  Edition,  full  leather,  gold  top a.OO 


)iy.  B.  CONKCY  COMPANY,  Hammond,  Ind. 


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